Wayfarers
by summerandblue
Summary: Three years after BOFA, a trio of unlikely wayfarers arrive at Bag End. Stunned, Bilbo looks into the eyes of two lads he thought dead...and their familiar companion. How did they survive? Sit alongside Bilbo as he serves tea and discovers what REALLY happened between Tauriel and Thranduil on Ravenhill. Fixit!AU co-authored by Summerald (Fili) and BlueRiverSteel (Kili).
1. Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Arrival

**Chapter One: An Unexpected Arrival**

Fíli led the way to a table in the corner by the hearth fire. He sat with his back to the wall so he could see the entrance and keep an eye on the crowd. His travel companions settled into seats on the other side, one dressed as a tall, thin man, one just another dwarf.

_That's all we are now, me and Kíli. Just plain dwarves. Wandering dwarves, itinerant dwarves…vagabond dwarves.  
><em>  
>Stop it, he told himself as his brother looked at him in silence.<p>

"Feels strange being back here," he said.

Kíli nodded. Their tall companion peered out from under her hood, eyes wide at the strangeness of this place. She'd never been to the Shire and she was plainly out of her element.

Poor lass. She was many years older than both of them, but in all her life had never ventured outside the land of her birth. Everything was new to her, strange and foreign. It made her a bit vulnerable and Fíli had softened to her. He hadn't wanted to like this elf lady in the beginning—they both knew it. But he appreciated her bravery in sticking with them and they shared the common goal of looking after his brother. Kíli had always been a handful; now even more so.

Tauriel looked at him anxiously, her expression uncertain.

Hobbits, Fíli realized. The inn was full of them and they were loud, laughing, drunk, and lovably ridiculous. He saw Kíli take her hand in reassurance.

A buxom, smiling Hobbit lass approached. "What'll you have my good dwarves?" She smiled at them, looked a bit askance at the "man," then raised her eyebrows.

"Two ales each for my brother and I," Fíli said with confidence. "And your best wine for our friend, here." Fíli smiled politely and slid a silver Bree coin across the table.

She took the coin and bobbed. "Thank'ee lads. I'll send Myrtle over with the ales…" She whisked herself away. When Myrtle delivered four tankards and a goblet, and Fíli stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Lassie," he said with a respectful nod. "Is there a likely lad to send on an errand? We've an old friend in these parts. Hoping he'll join us."

She flashed a nervous smile, then glanced about the public room. "Well, young Rudi…Rudigar, I should say…Rudigar might do it for a copper."

Fíli nodded and she hailed a young hobbit not fully grown and introduced the lad.

"Rudi, these travelers need a runner," she nodded and left.

Fíli put a small copper coin on the table and Kíli set a full leather pouch of pipeweed beside it.

Fíli smiled as kindly as he could. "Here's the job, lad. Take this up to Bag End and deliver it into the hand of Mr. Bilbo Baggins. Please ask if he'd care to meet old friends in the Green Dragon." Fíli nodded to his brother to indicate that the two of them were the friends. "Another copper for you when it's done."

The lad lifted the pouch and weighed it, approving the offering. "For Mr. Bilbo, sir?" The hobbit lad's curls bounced as he considered.

Kíli confirmed with a sober nod.

The lad grabbed the coin and took off, dodging hale gaffers on his way out. One old fellow, a miller perhaps, frowned at the lad, then looked back at Fíli .

Their eyes met. The old miller's narrowed. At the bar, a trio of farmers started a rousing tune about a randy red rooster.

_Hobbits_. Fíli kept his expression bland and turned back to his companions.

Kíli was reaching for his flagon. Tauriel sniffed her Shire wine with caution, then looked at it with pleasant surprise.

"Interesting," she said. "A bit plum-like."

"Give me ale, any time," Kíli said, shaking his head.

Fíli restrained himself from rolling his eyes. They were opposites, those two. But they had become inseparable. Go figure.

"As long as it packs a punch," Fíli raised his flagon. "I am more than happy to drink it," he declared, grinning as the other two joined him and they bumped drinks together.

"Here's to hoping our journey hasn't been for naught," he said. The two dwarves drank deeply; the elf sipped.

Kíli drained his flagon and came up for air. "Nicely hoppy. Yes! Shire ales use the best hops." He grinned happily.

Fíli smiled and agreed, setting his mug down with a thump.

Both ales later Fíli looked up to see that the messenger lad had returned.

"Mr. Bilbo, sir, says you are welcome at his home and insists you…" the lad stopped, eyes wide, considering the dwarves.

"What?" Kíli demanded.

The lad looked slightly frightened but adopted an air of recitation and cleared his throat. "Mr. Bilbo says: get your sorry backsides up the hill for a proper welcome...and says he assumes you know the way without getting lost..." The young hobbit's voice trailed off, as if unsure of the reception to such a cheeky answer.

Fíli snorted. "Ah. Well, that was never _our_ problem." He smiled sadly. After a moment he slid the second copper to the lad. "Well done, lad. We'll be up shortly, then." He finished his ale as the lad made himself scarce.

Together, the three travelers stood, Fíli taking a moment to settle his footing and shrug the kink out of his shoulder. Kíli kept his weight off his bad leg as he stood, limping just slightly as they left, Tauriel ever-watchful at their heels. She was lithe as ever…just more shy and anxious.

Outside, the evening air was crisp and billowing blue-grey clouds to the north hinted at late winter rain. Leaving their ponies well stabled, the travelers made their way from the roundabout to the Hill, passing only a single gardener on his way down.

The little gate and the round green door looked much as they had on that late summer night almost three years past.

But so much was different. _So much…_

Fíli rang the bell, his brother and friend next to him.

"Hello! Hello!" The door opened to a happy voice, and then Fíli found himself looking into the startled eyes of someone he'd not seen in nearly three years.

"Bilbo," he murmured. He meant to bow, meant to give the fellow a big hug and laugh at the sight of him.

But for Fíli, seeing Bilbo again brought back the sudden pain of knowing their uncle was dead, that so much had gone wrong.

He stared. Blinked.

And Bilbo Baggins stood with mouth open in sheer disbelief, his snub-nosed face drained of all color. He took a half-step back, looked very puzzled, then hit the floor with a firm *thunk*.

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><p><strong>**AN Welcome** to this NEW story co-authored by **Summerald** (me) who will be writing in Fili's POV and my fab writing buddy **BlueRiverSteel,** who will be writing in Kili's POV. We intend to alternate chapters as we develop this storyline. Please hop on over and visit our other stories, but in the meantime, welcome aboard! Please favorite or follow...chapter two will be along shortly!

**Don't be shy-drop us a note as a review or PM! All feedback welcome!**

**Mahal's Blessings!** Summerald and BlueRiverSteel!


	2. Chapter 2 - A Tale or Two to Tell

**Chapter Two: A Tale or Two To Tell**

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><p>Kíli laughed abruptly at the sight poor Bilbo made; lying there on his own foyer carpet, not much different from the last time he'd been in this house, almost three years prior. <em>That <em>night, it had been the incessant teasing about death by dragon that had bowled the hobbit over.

Much had changed since then.

The thought sobered Kíli quickly as he and Fíli bent down to help up their friend. The younger Durin could tell his brother wasn't as amused as he by the apparent inequality in Bilbo's fortitude—the hobbit could face down a literal dragon, battle orcs (with a sword!), and plunge himself headlong into a warg's path when it stalked toward an unconscious friend; but give the poor lad a couple of ghosts on his front porch—smiling ones no less—and he was down for the count.

Bilbo jerked awake just as they managed to maneuver him onto the small couch in his sitting room. His gaze locked with Kíli's, his blue eyes almost comically wide in his still-bloodless face.

Taking mercy on his friend, Kíli gripped the nape of his neck so that Bilbo could see the truth in his eyes. "It's all right," he said firmly. "It is all right. We're really here, Bilbo."

Bilbo's breath stuttered as he looked to each of them; Kíli, then Fíli, then back to Kíli, then past both their shoulders.

"T-Tauriel?" he gasped. Kíli was half-offended at that—Bilbo had barely known Tauriel at all, much less stomped over half of Middle Earth with her—and it was she he looked to first?

"It is true, Master Hobbit," she spoke softly as she sat gracefully in the chair across from him. "They were near death, but not entirely gone, when…"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet," Fíli interrupted, casting a look at their elven companion. Kíli looked back to Bilbo, who was still rather pale but no longer seemed in any danger of falling headfirst onto the carpet. Now that the lad was more stable, Kíli took a moment to actually _look _at him.

The hobbit's hair was shorter, though no less curly than Kíli remembered. His clothes were thick and well-made, and he was obviously much better fed than the last time he'd seen him. Bilbo's forehead and cheeks were only slightly lined, in a manner that bespoke more smiles than frowns. His friend's eyes, while they still held a haunted look, were open and kind.

All in all, he looked healthy and content, which was really more than could be said for either Kíli or his brother. To see their friend well did his heart good.

"You lads are truly alive?" Bilbo asked, looking between them again. Fíli, then Kíli, then back to Fíli, who answered.

"More or less, yes."

"More _more_ than _less_," Kíli quirked a small smile at the hobbit. "And it's really wonderful to see you, if I may say."

Bilbo let out the most heartbreaking sound before throwing his arms around both dwarves' necks and pulling them tightly against him. Kíli felt his own throat close up with a wild mix of emotions—everything from outright joy to breathtaking grief—and just let the trembling hobbit have his moment.

"Mahal, you lads…" Bilbo muttered as he pulled back a full minute later to hold them both at arm's length. "I can't believe this! You're actually here, _in my house_! H-how? How is it possible?" He addressed Fíli directly. "I _saw _you _die_, lad. Saw Azog stab you in the back myself…"

"We will explain everything, Bilbo, I promise you we will," Fíli assured him. "But it will not be a short story, nor an easy one."

Bilbo blinked as if suddenly coming back to himself. "Of course! You have doubtless travelled far and long and are likely exhausted! Where are my manners?" He hopped to his feet, stumbling only a little over what Kíli suspected were shaking knees. "Come! Sit, make yourselves comfortable. I'll put the kettle on. You'll stay for dinner, of course." He bustled toward the kitchen, where they could hear him muttering to himself, "Fíli and Kíli. _And _Tauriel. Who could have guessed?"

Fíli turned to him when they were certain Bilbo was occupied. "He won't take this well," he observed, concern written over his features. Kíli snorted.

"None of us have taken any of this very well, brother."

Tauriel sniffed her protest, and Kíli cocked an eyebrow in challenge. She stared at him for a moment, then left it at that.

They all sat in companionable silence, the only sound the distant clattering of pots from the kitchen, accompanied by the quiet humming of their host. Fíli was brooding again—a habit he'd taken up of late, one Kíli desperately wished to break him of, but had no idea how—his gaze fixed on the cheery fire in the hearth, a small frown set upon his stern face.

Lighter coloring or no, his brother was the one who had come to most resemble Thorin in the last twenty four months, Kíli reflected. He wasn't used to this Fíli yet; the dour and bitter brother that had developed in Thranduil's prison cells, nor the rebellious and angry displaced Prince that had left Erebor not four months prior.

Kíli sighed. He didn't _want _to get used to that brother; he wanted _his _Fíli back.

But Fíli had improved, of late, he had to admit; the open road, with no companions but his brother and a relatively young and open-minded elf—whom he thought Fee might be warming to a little bit—had smoothed away some of the cynicism and bitter sharp edges that the last two years had created in his brother. Fíli smiled now, more easily than he had since Thorin was alive, even laughed sometimes; and just two days ago Kíli had awoken to a harmless garden snake being dangled before his face.

He _hated _snakes.

It had been worth it, though, when the ensuing loud—and semi-violent—reaction had sent Fíli into a fit of laughter the likes of which Kíli hadn't heard from his brother in…Mahal, in _ages_.

He hid a grin behind his hand, pretending to yawn. Bilbo bustled in just then, carrying a large tray with teacups and a steaming kettle, as well as a plate of what looked to be sandwiches.

"Here we are," he said, smiling at each of them in turn. "I assume chamomile is acceptable?"

Bilbo's guests nodded, and the hobbit set to preparing the hot drinks; to Kíli's amusement, he would look up now and then, study all three of them, and shake his head as he went back to his task, smiling the whole while.

When everyone was settled in with tea and sandwiches (roast and cheese, Kíli was happy to find), Bilbo sank into his armchair with a sigh. He said nothing at first, merely studied his friends, a frown slowly spreading over his face as he took in Fíli, then Kíli, and then Tauriel.

"You look…" he hesitated, seemingly searching for the right word. Kíli wondered, with tired mirth, what descriptor the hobbit would settle on.

_Exhausted?_

Worn?

Ill?

Half-dead?

"…peaked," Bilbo finished. "None of you have been eating well, have you?"

Fíli's eyes flicked to Kíli's, and he quirked half a smile at his brother. "No worse than we ate on the Quest," Fíli answered. Bilbo harrumphed his opinion about that.

"Well then, you'll just have to stay for a time while I make sure you lot get some real food and rest."

"Perhaps you'd better let us tell our tale first," Fíli said tightly. "Before you invite us to stay."

"Nonsense," Bilbo huffed. "You're welcome here anytime, regardless." The hobbit tilted his head and raised his brow in a quiet expression of admission that Kíli recognized. "Not that I'm not anxious to hear your story, and I have a bucket load of questions, so please…do begin."

The companions all looked at one another as if trying to decide who should start. "Well," Fíli began, hesitantly, "we should probably start by stating the obvious: neither Azog nor Bolg's killing blows accomplished their task, thanks to Tauriel and Thranduil."

The hobbit's eyebrows rose another inch. "The Elvenking?"

"Indeed." Fíli sighed. "You know that elvish healing magic is legendary. I should like to tell you he helped us out of kindness, but it was not at all that simple."

Kíli snorted at that, and Bilbo looked toward him, startled. "That is rather a fantastic understatement, brother."

Fíli smirked, then turned to Tauriel. "Perhaps you ought to begin. You were the only one conscious for the beginning of this tale." The elf nodded slowly, fixing her gaze on the fire before speaking softly.

"Thranduil found me after…" she hesitated. "After it was over…with Kili dying in my arms."

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><p>AN: Hello, everyone! I'm honored to be co-writing this with my dear friend Summer; we both have seen the film and she had a fantastic WHAT IF? idea, we brainstormed a while, and here we are! Love to see you along for the ride, please follow and review, let us know what you think!

Cheers, Blue


	3. Chapter 3 - A Knife in the Heart

**Chapter 3: A Knife in the Heart**

Fíli watched Tauriel stare into Bilbo's hearth fire as she began their tale.

"When My Lord Thranduil found me there, he was in tears himself," Tauriel said. "I took his grief as a sign that he was in truth moved to pity. That he could see the senselessness of the loss…"

She glanced at Kíli. "I could not bear the idea that such a young and vibrant spirit was gone. And Kíli had come to be my friend..." Her voice trailed off.

The little room was silent.

"So when Thranduil knelt beside me," she began again. "And whispered in my ear, I believed him."

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><p>The battle was over, but Tauriel could think of nothing past the crushing pain in her chest and the icy wind that nearly froze her tears in place. She gripped the gloved hand of Kíli, Son of Durin, and wept.<p>

Vaguely, she knew when her Lord Thranduil knelt beside her, his own eyes welling with sympathy.

"We may not yet be too late," he whispered, his words soothing and slow. He took the young dwarf's hand from her, then felt the lad's forehead with his other. "Aüle's folk linger long before the spirit flees," he said. "And there are still a few among us who know the ways of the Eldar. Galadriel, the Istari…" he looked deep into her Silvan eyes. "In small measure, the half-elven," he said, meaning Elrond. "And in full, the Kings of the Sindar." He closed his eyes and inclined his head, indicating himself.

Tauriel's thoughts whirled. "What are you saying?" she whispered. "You can heal him?" Did she dare hope? Would her Lord King even consider…? "My lord, I would beg every forgiveness, make every penance…"

"For his life?" Thranduil's face was proud and indignant. "I am not so uncaring as that."

It was then that two of the Elvenking's personal guard appeared, bearing Kíli's brother on a makeshift stretcher.

"My lord, we bring this one to lay with the other." They set down the stretcher, bowed their heads to him, and waited for instruction. Thranduil dismissed them.

And Tauriel looked from the still face of Fíli to the somber face of Kíli. "My Lord, they are brothers." Dared she hope? "Can you not save them both?"

His eyes had flashed angry then, just for a moment, as if she overstepped. But he blinked and his eyes lost their fire, becoming more compassionate again.

In reply, he closed his eyes, sat very straight, and chanted low, his voice rising. A wind swirled past, swooping snowflakes past and then rising—whipping her hair left, then right in a sudden whirl of power that stopped as suddenly as it started.

She opened her eyes to see his fingertips leave Kíli's forehead.

He breathed...the young dwarf's chest rose and fell. Next to him, his brother breathed as well.

Tauriel was still, her eyes wide as she looked at her Lord King, hardly believing, hardly _hoping_...

He stood. "Here is the price. You will help bear them back to my Halls. Now. I have called them back, but they will need care to survive. You will do this."

"Would it not be best to..." she began.

But the scathing look he cast upon her stilled her tongue. She bowed her head, lest he reverse his decision. "Of course, My Lord. I will stay with them. _Cerithon i iesteg._" (I will do as you wish.)

He narrowed his eyes as if to say _much better, _then turned and called for his Guard, giving instructions. Tauriel found herself scrambling to her feet, hurrying to stay with them as Thranduil's stern assistants shifted Kíli to his brother's stretcher and lifted them, marching in step as they took their burdens down the sloping path of Ravenhill.

* * *

><p>Tauriel set her empty teacup on the table and Bilbo started, as if coming back to himself. "A refill. Yes, of course. Right here," he stood, checked the pot, and poured for her.<p>

"So," he said, pouring for the lads and himself as well. "Thranduil revived them and took them to his Halls to recover," he summed up. "You know, I saw Gandalf do that very thing…with Thorin. After the eagles rescued us."

"Yes..." Tauriel said, looking into her cup, freshly steaming. "It is a talent the great ones have." She bit her lip, looked bleakly at Kíli, then shook her head, unable to say more. "They were alive, but far from fully healed. Their wounds were truly grievous and for many weeks I wondered if they would really recover."

Fíli took a deep breath. "All I remember," he said. "Is waking up back in the Elvenking's dungeon and thinking we had never left."

Kíli was nodding. "Me as well. Except I knew that Fíli was beside me."

Bilbo shook his head. "But you were in separate cells. When I freed you, you were not together." He wagged a finger.

"That's right," Fíli confirmed. "And that's how I knew, after a time, that things were very different."

"He'd locked up Tauriel along with us, for one," Kíli glowered.

"Locked up?" Bilbo asked, looking from one to the other.

Tauriel only nodded, her eyes cast down in deep regret. "If I were being kind, I would say Thranduil's original offer had been in earnest and what happened later an unfortunate happenstance."

Kíli snorted.

"But even I have to admit," Tauriel looked at Bilbo with a bleak expression. "That it's hard to see it that way now."

Bilbo sat back, tapping his thumb on the cushioned arm of his chair. When Tauriel didn't immediately take up the story again, Fíli cleared his throat.

"It took a few weeks to really heal," he said. He rolled his left shoulder. "This shoulder...still not quite right. Wrenched it badly, I guess." He frowned, then smiled sadly. "When Gandalf used Eldar magic to heal Thorin, our uncle was back on his feet in a couple days."

Bilbo nodded, recalling that moment on the Carrock when he'd feared Thorin had not survived. He'd landed to find Gandalf tending to his fallen friend, saw the miracle of Thorin's eyes opening...saw him struggle to stand on unsteady feet.

"It took us much longer," Fíli admitted.

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><p>Fíli awoke someplace very quiet, but he was with his brother, that much he knew. Bandaged and weak, it took all his energy to sit up and drink broth. Elven healing, he'd been told, had got his heart beating and his lungs working. The wound through his back along with six or seven other injuries, including a broken collarbone, would heal slowly in their own time.<p>

But worse than that was the slight amnesia—the sense that his brain was full of fog and that he drifted through it. He could recall bits and pieces of things, but nothing was clear all the way back to the day when he'd first laid eyes on the hoard of Erebor and seen the horrible reality of his uncle deep in gold sickness. That image was seared into his memory.

Tauriel had told them Thorin was dead. That the battle was over. That Dain had claimed the Raven Crown and declared himself King Under the Mountain.

He didn't matter, he realized. Thorin's curse had made them all unfit to rule. Maybe he was cursed with it himself. _Unfit...unworthy._

Damn Erebor, then. Dain could have it. Fíli's heart was broken, the apparent rejection resulting in a wall of pain he fortified with resentment. To hell with all of them, and to hell with Thorin for not having been stronger.

Kíli was faring a little better, and he hobbled around their cell once every hour in a desperate bid to gain strength.

Fíli woke only to full angry awareness when he heard that voice. That silky-sly murmur of the Elvenking coming to look down his nose at them.

"You must understand that you are not prisoners," he heard him say to Tauriel. "I fear them stumbling out of here in their delirium. The world is not safe for the Sons of Durin. We protect them, Tauriel."

Fíli stared at the wall, hearing her careful attempts to persuade Thranduil otherwise.

To no avail.

"You have food and water and the luxury of separate sleeping quarters—and a bathing pool." A haughty sniff in Tauriel's direction. "I implore you—get them to use it."

Fíli had refused; turned his back to the bars of their "quarters" and pretended not to hear.

It was Kíli who had convinced him otherwise.

"Fee. You can't do this. I…" he'd heard his brother's voice catch. "We lost Thorin. I can't lose you…"

"Leave me be, Kíli. I'm not well." Fíli lay huddled on his blanket. His shoulder hurt; his ribs ached.

"I agree. But let's get you better."

Fíli ignored him. Turned away. Shut him out. _Go weep in the arms of your elf lady._

And then one night he woke to find little brother snuggled at this back just as he'd done as a dwarfling. He reached down to touch Kíli's arm and felt once again the absolute faith of his _nadadith_. He'd been surprised to hear Kíli sniff and turned to see tears on his face.

"_Mahal_…tell me you're not giving up," Kíli whispered through tears. "I can't do this if you give up."

Fíli clenched his eyes shut at the sight of his brother's pain. They'd been raised to fight…fight as long as they lived. "Not giving up," he managed. "Just don't know…" he shook his head. "Don't know how we get past this."

"Together," Kíli said, his voice stronger. "We do it together, Fíli." Kíli's strong hand found his and gripped tight.

"Yes. All right," Fíli agreed. Then he told his brother about his fears—about the gold sickness.

"Fee…there's no gold here. It's all in that damned Mountain, miles away."

That was the turning point. Fíli knew then that it was high time he found his way out of the fog and got a good look around. And where was his gear? He suddenly wanted his sword, his knives, a mace..._Mahal_, he'd take Kíli's bow if there was nothing else at hand.

* * *

><p>"It was four or five weeks," Fíli told Bilbo. "Before I was thinking straight again." He stared at Bilbo's fire. "It was just so hard to understand that he was gone."<p>

Across the room, Bilbo made a sad sound, his hand covering his face. "I know…" he murmured, his voice husky. "Believe me, lads." Bilbo shook his head. "I still can't quite…" The hobbit seemed to struggle for the right word. "Accept it. I can't." He set his teacup and saucer on the side table and stood, going to the window and looking out.

Fíli saw Tauriel's eyes follow him, then she looked back at Kíli, her expression plain. She was wondering if coming here had been the right thing.

"What happened then?" Bilbo asked, turning to face them. "How did you get free?"

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><p><strong>**THANK YOU for reading...<strong>Blue and I are overwhelmed by the number of likes, favorites, follows and reviews in just two days! You guys rock! Please don't forget to drop another review or note to let us know what you think! If you're just joining us, don't be shy...and welcome aboard!

Going forward, we're planning about one chapter a week, and expect to wrap the tale somewhere between 20-30 chapters. We've been busy plotting it out, so hoping you all like where it goes!

Just a last reminder that Summerandblue is a writing team-and we invite you to check out our individual stories by Summerald and BlueRiverSteel.

Mahal's Blessings, everyone!

**Summer and Blue****


	4. Chapter 4 - A Deficit of Honor

**Chapter 4: A Deficit of Honor**

Kíli smiled at Bilbo as he took up the tale. "We didn't ever escape, _exactly_."

The hobbit's eyebrows raised in unspoken question, and Tauriel made a sound that was very nearly a snort. The brothers looked at her, Fíli askance (elves didn't _snort_) and Kíli grinning. "Well, you did, I suppose, but that's part of the story."

He turned back to Bilbo. "Even though we were prisoners, not every day was horrible. The elves were…" He squinted, looking for the right word. "We were never mistreated. We were warm, fed, free to move about our 'room', and had medicines when we needed them. Fíli and I had begun training again, re-learning to fight with our new...handicaps...and doing everything we could to stay fit and get stronger…"

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><p>"Come on, Kee!" the elder Durin grinned at his brother. "I could've blocked that in my sleep!"<p>

"Aye," Kíli said, circling slowly, looking for an opening. "I daresay you just did. Wake up, Fíli!" He darted forward at this, bringing his dominant fist to bear on Fíli's bad side, laughing when his brother focused too hard on blocking it to notice Kíli's other hand land a soft strike on his kidney.

Fíli growled, knowing a blow like that would've taken him out of a real fight easily. He spun about, putting a bit of distance between the two, and Kíli knew he was cursing his inability to adjust to his bad shoulder. The compromised range of motion affected everything from Fíli's stance to his strikes and parries, and it was desperately frustrating, Kíli knew. His leg was much the same-it was difficult to depend on it, locking up and collapsing at odd moments, lances of pain radiating outward if Fee landed so much as a soft strike against the thigh, the inability to jump as well or as high. It was a lot to learn to deal with.

But that's why they were working like this, he and Fíli. They both needed to be able to fight if they ever wanted to escape this place and be of any use when they got out.

Figuring Fíli was now well and truly focused on his frustration, Kíli charged him with all the speed he could muster and a grin that should've been a warning to the elder Durin. Fíli stood unmoving, and Kíli almost laughed with his victory, until his brother neatly sidestepped, sending the lad stumbling toward the wall of the cell.

Kíli yelped, managing to stop himself just in time to avoid bashing his skull on the rock. But the move had unbalanced him, and Fíli stepped up behind easily, crooking an arm about Kíli's neck and laughing good-naturedly as he folded him into a headlock.

"What was that you were saying about being asleep, little brother?"

Kíli grunted, trying to back out of the position. "You looked like you were getting angry, I thought I could use it against you."

"Ahhh, fooled you."

Kíli growled, bringing one hand up to dig his fingers into Fíli's ribs. The older dwarf gasped, cursing his brother's knowledge of his tickle-spots, but refused to let go. He held Kíli's head tightly while he laughed, squirming in an attempt to escape his brothers dancing fingers.

Kíli noticed Tauriel smiling faintly from her perch on her bed-it was the first time he'd seen anything but depression or anxiety from her since he woke, and the realization made him grin again, despite his unhelpful defeat.

"Tauriel!" he shouted. "Make yourself useful, lass, come and help me!"

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I believe you and your brother both specified I was not to interfere before this spar began." She looked to Fíli as if for confirmation. "I am certain it was to avoid just this situation, _meleth nin_. You earned this loss by being too hasty to rush your opponent."

Somewhere above him, Fíli laughed, and Kíli held back a grin at the sound, keeping his affronted facade in place. "I am betrayed," he moaned dramatically, going limp in Fíli's arms, making his brother laugh even harder.

"And I've won!" Fíli ruffled Kíli's hair before letting him go. Both lads stood, brushing themselves off, before pressing their foreheads together in a gesture of affection.

"Well fought, brother," Kíli murmured with a smile.

"And you, _nadadith_."

The brothers had walked toward Tauriel's bed—the three liked to discuss their matches afterward, to garner each other's criticism as well as suggestions for improvement—when there were footsteps heard down the hall, coming toward the cell.

Kíli spun, his brother beside him and Tauriel instantly at their backs, the levity of the previous moment gone entirely.

Five flaxen-haired guards appeared at the barred doors, one jingling a key in the lock. They said not a word until two stood just inside the cell, practically glaring.

"What is your business here, Faeren?" Tauriel stepped before the brothers, placing herself deliberately between them and the guards. Kíli tensed.

The taller of the two guards-Faeren, Kíli guessed-pointed a finger imperiously at him. "King Thranduil requests the presence of this one."

Beside him, Fíli growled audibly, and before him, Tauriel tensed; but Kíli stepped forward. "Why?"

The guard wrinkled his nose in poorly-concealed disgust. "It is not my concern, nor yours. Now come, before we take you forcibly."

"You'll have to go through me if you want him," Fíli threatened, pulling Kíli back by his elbow. Kíli shook him off firmly.

_No, nadad._

"It is all right," he murmured, to both Tauriel and his brother. "I will go. All will be well."

* * *

><p>Eyes wide, Bilbo shuddered in his overstuffed armchair next to his little fire in Bag End. "Where did they take you? They wouldn't torture you, would they?"<p>

Kíli laughed a little. "No, I don't believe elves would stoop so low; even ones as impetuous and arrogant as Woodland Elves. No offense to present company, of course," he added, glancing at Tauriel.

The she-elf just shrugged. "It is unfortunate that I cannot dispute such labels, but they do warrant them."

Fíli grunted his agreement across the room, where he had taken to pacing slowly, like a caged lion.

He _hated _this part of the story, Kíli knew.

"I was completely shocked when they led me away to Thranduil's throne room—but he was not alone there."

* * *

><p>Kíli shrugged off Faeren's hand on his shoulder as they entered the room. "I cannot go anywhere," he growled. "No need to shove."<p>

"Silence, whelp," the guard hissed, just as Kíli heard Thranduil's sly voice:

"Ahhh, the younger Son of Durin, here we are. Just as I said, Dain."

Kíli's eyes widened as they landed on his distant cousin, then narrowed when they took in the sight of his crown—the very same one Thorin had worn just before that fateful battle.

_Honorless usurper…_

But Dain looked shocked into silence at the sight of him, and Kíli began to wonder if anyone had even known that he and Fili were locked up here, languishing in Thranduil's dungeons.

A horrible pit in his stomach told him no, they hadn't.

"Kíli?" Dain's voice cracked on his name, and he suddenly wanted to embrace the dwarf king, simply for being kin.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his kin.

"My Lord Dain," he answered, inclining his head respectfully, then looking to the Elvenking. "You never even told him we were alive, did you?" Anger gathered, hot and biting, in his gut. "Did you!?"

"I did not," the elf answered smoothly. "We did not know if you would survive at first."

"It's been _weeks_!" Kíli protested. "We've been on the mend for weeks! He had a right to know!"

"And now he does," Thranduil interrupted, fire flashing in his blue eyes. "And your survival has proven to be most..._convenient_...for all parties involved." He turned his gaze to the dwarf king. "Both princes are well enough to travel now, they grow stronger by the day. I am more than happy to return them to you immediately, should you be so kind as to return what you now hold that is mine."

Dain's eyes darkened considerably at that. "Why you lying, conniving, tree-shagging _snake_!" he growled. "You would withhold my kin from me for the sake of simple jewelry?"

"Or perhaps you would withhold my jewels from me at the expense of your kin," Thranduil answered, eyes narrowed. "Which is the greater sin, I ask you?"

The dwarf king snorted, beard swinging as he turned away abruptly. Kíli recognized the gesture—Thorin had often used it when dealing with him as a dwarfling—as one of absolute rage, an attempt to calm oneself before addressing the issue. Thranduil said nothing, only sat imperiously on his raised throne, looking down on everyone with something akin to satisfaction in his gaze.

"I require time to consult my councilors," Dain growled, his voice dangerously low as he turned back to the Elvenking. "I will give you an answer in three days' time. My cousins will not be harmed."

Kíli blinked, feeling a bit faint.

Three days? Dain needed three days to decide if he and Fíli were worth a few jewels?

The part of his brain that had endured hundreds of hours of lessons in politics told him that Dain was simply playing the game—refusing to let the elf king have what he wanted right away, holding off because his pride wouldn't allow him to simply give in to Thranduil's demands, that he was grasping for some sort of control in the situation.

But it still hurt. A lot.

"They shall remain secure with me," Thranduil promised, smug with what he knew would be his victory in a few days. ""Well guarded in the deepest levels of my Hall."

* * *

><p>Bilbo sat, jaw slack, staring at Kíli. "You're bloody joking," he said hoarsely.<p>

Fíli growled from the corner, and Kíli shook his head. "I wish I was, my friend. Thranduil tried to barter our freedom for his jewels, and Dain—"

"—Dain left us to rot in Thranduil's dungeons while he 'considered' the deal," Fíli said, his voice low with resentment.

"Most humiliating moment of my life," Kíli admitted softly.

Tauriel reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, and for the first time that afternoon, Bilbo saw a glimpse of the fiery elf maiden he had only briefly known three years prior. "I, too, was shocked at the dwarf king's reaction. I am certain your uncle would have done better."

Kíli laughed, and even Fíli had to smile a little at that. "Are you kidding?" the older dwarf said. "Uncle would've tossed Thranduil's jewels in his face, and then torn Mirkwood down branch by branch to get us. At least," he looked a little uncomfortable. "The Uncle we knew growing up would have."

Bilbo looked sympathetic. "He would have indeed, lad. Thorin loved you—even more than all the gold in Erebor—and he remembered it before the end." He shook his head. "So what was Dain's answer? I don't understand..."

* * *

><p><strong>**AN:** Thanks for reading! We continue to be thrilled with everyone's response, so our hats off to you! Don't forget to drop us a note as a review or PM and let us know what you think...it's a big help.

A quick reminder: we intend to post about one chapter a week from here on, so please be sure to follow so you get the email alert.

_Happy New Year and Mahal's Blessings from BlueRiverSteel and Summerald!_

**—Blue (and Summer)****


	5. Chapter 5 - Together and Alone

**Chapter 5 - Together and Alone**

Bilbo held his teacup and shook his head sadly. "I don't understand why Dain needed time," he said. "I mean, three days? Why leave you there for three days? Send for the jewels, hand them over, and take you home." Bilbo stabbed a finger in the air to emphasize each point, then made a hobbit-like frown of exasperation.

"Politics," Fíli growled, pacing again with suppressed anger. "Pretenses...scheming. When Kíli was shoved back into our cell and told us what happened…" He shook his head once. "I was livid. And I knew right off that Thranduil never saved us out of the goodness of his heart." He glanced at Tauriel.

Bilbo looked at the slender elf-lass. She stared at the tea in her hand, her eyes wide and haunted.

"It was done in good faith," Bilbo said to her. "Your bargain with Thranduil. It cannot be your fault that his intentions were so self-serving."

Tauriel looked away. "I thought he understood my grief, that he acted with compassion. So when I truly saw that we were just his convenient means to an end..." She closed her eyes.

The poor lass had a healthy serving of guilt, Bilbo realized. "Regardless of the outcome, she saved your lives," he said to the brothers. "And if I've learned nothing else in my travels, I know this: good deeds can so easily go awry," he said quietly. "She trusted her King."

Fíli stopped pacing and considered their friend. He nodded, acknowledging Bilbo's admission.

"That cuts both ways, unfortunately," Fíli said. "We also trusted that Dain would see us freed, but it didn't take long to understand our cousin was being underhanded again. He refused to help Thorin at the outset, showed up after the dragon was dead and only then when he smelled profit…" Fíli clenched a fist. "Then just left us there as if he couldn't be bothered to make a decision. Disloyal, honorless, rotten-hearted…"

"I think we all know he's a conniving ass, Fee," Kíli stated.

"So it really took him three days?" Bilbo said, nudging them to keep going with the story.

"More like three weeks," Fíli said in a quiet snarl. "And things got worse before they got better."

* * *

><p>Fíli stood alone in King Thranduil's presence. It had been a week since cousin Dain's visit, and still no word had come back from the Mountain. This time, Thranduil's guards had taken <em>him<em> from the locked cell and brought him alone before the Elvenking.

"Your cousin Dain has laid claim to the Raven Crown," Thranduil said from beneath lidded eyes. "Yet you are the eldest sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield, grandson to Thror, King Under the Mountain."

Fíli did not answer. Let Thranduil think him stupid—but he refused to play along.

"It is an injustice to you. Even I," Thranduil laid a long-fingered hand over his heart. "Feel the unfairness of it. He leaves you out, as if your existence does not count. As if you are nothing more than another nameless warrior, fallen in battle with no honor."

Fíli narrowed his eyes and stood straight. Or as straight as he could with his not-quite-healed ribs and shoulder.

"One can't help but assess his motives," Thranduil went on. "If he acknowledges that you live, it makes things...inconvenient for him." Thranduil seemed to smirk. "How unfortunate. I fear you've been...disowned."

Fíli still did not speak.

"You might consider that it is possible," Thranduil said, "for me to support an alternative to Erebor's choice of ruler. A resolution to the White Council that would benefit you as well as your brother."

Fíli felt his heartbeat quicken, though he tried his best to remain unmoved.

"I, of course, recognize the value of someone with whom I have an understanding. I," he emphasized. "Would never forget such a strong, young scion of royalty. I would lend my assistance..."

Fíli continued to remain silent. He could see it—the thing Thranduil thought he could offer: Erebor's throne with Fíli upon it, his cousin Dain sent back to the Iron Hills. He wondered what kind of deal Thranduil would propose to sweeten the offer. Something more for the dwarves? Promises of mutual aid? Reparations for past injustices?

But what the Elvenking was really suggesting was treachery; Fíli recognized it sure enough and he answered only with a stone-hard glare.

"Guards," Thranduil's voice did not change, yet a pair of flaxen-haired wardens appeared, all the same. "Take our young Prince back to his place of rest while he tries to _think_."

Fíli barely registered the insult before being shoved sideways, thrust away from Thranduil's high seat, and then pushed to leave. He tried to focus on memorizing the path—counting the twists and turns between the throne room and the dungeon as he was shoved or pushed again every six or seven steps. He began to wonder if his escorts were taking him on a roundabout path just to prolong the humiliation.

And at that, he half expected to be taken someplace new, to be separated from his brother and isolated—but to his relief the guards clanged open the door to their familiar abode, the warden ordering Kíli and Tauriel away as they waited for Fíli to step back inside.

It was more demeaning than being shoved—they held the door and waited for him to walk through, for him _to choose_ his own continued imprisonment.

He did it only because his brother was there. He glared and walked through with slow, purposeful steps. They slammed the door practically on his heels, secured the bolt with a resounding clack and were gone.

Fíli stood there, shoulders tight with tension, jaw clenched. He wanted to slam his fist into the wall, drive a sword deep into someone's gut…

But he didn't have a sword. He had no weapons of any kind.

"What did he say?" Kíli closed the distance between them, then stopped. He seemed wary.

Fíli wanted to roar.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "He said nothing."

"At all?" Tauriel's voice rang against the stone walls of their prison and she stepped quickly forward. "Was there no…?"

Kíli held up a hand to silence her. She stopped, they looked at each other, and Kíli shook his head once. After a moment she seemed to acquiesce, turning away to pace, fingers fidgeting together in worry. Kíli turned back to him.

"Tell me what happened," he said in a low, deep voice. His brows were drawn in a glower that was so very like Thorin that Fíli huffed.

"He would offer me what Dain has taken," Fíli whispered, glaring with the insult of it.

"He oversteps," Kíli murmured. "The Kingship of Erebor is not his to give."

Fíli met his brother's eyes. They both knew it wasn't exactly Dain's to take, either.

"He just means to create strife between us," Fíli said. "Pit us against each other." He shook his head. "I will not fall for that. Don't you do it either."

Kíli's eyes narrowed, then he nodded.

That night they made themselves eat their meal together with Tauriel, letting themselves fall back into their habit of easy camaraderie, showing their wardens that nothing had changed.

Seven days later, Thranduil's guards came for Tauriel. And while she may have walked obediently forward and given Kíli a shush, Fíli saw the worried fear in her eyes.

Kíli leapt forward at the last minute as if to go with her or pull her back. "No!" he said, reaching for Tauriel's arm. He earned the butt-end of a spear shaft, rammed roughly into his chest to push him back.

Fíli could only catch him, keep him being slammed into the wall and further injured. He wrapped his arms around his _nadadith_ as Kíli struggled, flinging insults in the wake of Thranduil's guards as they led their friend away.

They were left alone in silence and even Fíli could feel the gut-deep pain of seeing their only friend and ally taken away.

"Kíli ..._nadadith_," he said in his brother's ear. "Get hold of yourself. I can't do this," his voice had broken and dropped to a whisper. "Without you. They'll bring her back...just like when they took you and when they took me."

Kíli dashed angry tears from his face and cursed in _khuzdul_.

Together they waited. And waited. They exercised—just situps and pullups and muscle exercises using each other as weights and resistance. When they tired of that, they slept sitting up, backs against the wall. The lowly elf who brought their evening rations came by and slid a tray under the steel bars.

And Tauriel still did not return.

After the evening meal, the healer elf who'd been attending them came to the door and was let in by a scowling guard.

Fíli stood, blocking Kíli from any rash action, one hand warning his brother to stay still. Tauriel had told them that the old healer was a venerable elf, well respected and of high standing. She had deferred to him and he had tended their injuries well. He had been kind to them.

"Healer Aredhel," Fíli said, speaking with respect worthy of his mother or Balin. "Tauriel was taken away this morning and not returned. We are very concerned."

Healer Aredhel looked from Fíli to his brother, easily able to see that while Fíli might be "concerned," Kíli was devastated.

"She was called to the King's Judgment," the old elf said quietly. "I'm afraid that King Thranduil has passed sentence upon her."

"Sentence for what?" Kíli pushed forward, his face flushed. Fíli's arm held him back.

But the healer's expression was grave. "Your concern for your elf-friend is commendable," he said, hand on heart. He lowered his eyes and made a slow head nod to Kíli. That small gesture of respect, more than anything else, released the tension in Kíli's taut frame. He went from angry to vulnerable in the blink of an eye. Fíli's arm stayed firm, holding him up now.

"For what?" Kíli's whisper was heart-breaking.

"For negligence in the escape of you and your companions," Healer Aredhel began.

Fíli frowned. Poor lass didn't know about Bilbo. And truth be told, none of them knew exactly how Bilbo had pulled it off.

"And then defying her Lord and King by leaving his lands and involving herself in matters against his specific command. Matters not sanctioned."

Kíli's expression darkened, but he did not speak.

"What is the sentence for such things?" Fíli managed to ask. Next to him, Kíli's eyes were full of unshed tears, as if just realizing he might never see her again.

"One hundred years," Aredhel said. The old healer folded his hands together. "Long term prisoners are sent to the _gwedho-den. _What happens now is that she will be brought back here and allowed to say goodbye...to gather her things."

Fíli was surprised at this—it was more than dwarven jailors would have done, to be honest. He looked around. They really had no belongings—a change of clothes, a towel, a bedroll and blankets. A wooden mug each. Tauriel had been allowed a small book, and she had a basket of soaps and bathing salts.

"They'll let her come back? We can see her?" Kíli asked, his voice unsteady and thick with emotion.

"Yes. I am not sure for how long." Healer Aredhel shook his head in sadness. "Perhaps a few minutes, perhaps as long as an hour or two."

Kíli stared in silence. Fíli didn't know what to say, though his mind was racing. How could they make that time count? Did she know routes of escape that they could use?

"This is a packet of herbs for her," the healer said, handing a small pouch to Fíli . "I am prescribing it to ease her distress. Make certain," he looked Fíli in the eye. "That she brews a cup and drinks it right away." He nodded to the kettle of hot water they were allowed. "You might get the water boiling and have it ready for her."

Fíli nodded, feeling vaguely puzzled. With everything else, why was boiling water so important?

The conversation turned then to their own health. The healer insisted on seeing Fíli's shoulder, testing his range of motion.

Kíli refused all attention, however; crossing his arms and turning his face to the wall.

Fíli just shrugged and looked without apology at the healer. He would not force his brother to submit to anything. Silently, the old elf nodded, apparently in agreement that it was not quite the best time to be expecting cooperation from the younger dwarf.

When the old healer had left, Kíli turned on him. "What are you doing, letting him touch you like that?" he hissed.

Fíli stepped close, glaring at his brother. "One of us had to play along," he whispered. "That old elf took a risk to come here and give us news...or are you so upset that you can't think straight?"

Kíli blinked and seemed to consider this, but he said nothing. He turned and sat against the wall with a huff. "So again, we wait," he muttered.

Fíli let himself take a deep breath. "Yes, brother. We wait. But I have a feeling something is happening. Why else do this to Tauriel now?"

Kíli looked up. "Dain's paying the ransom?"

Fíli walked to the steel bars and looked into the hallway beyond. "Perhaps. If he has the guts to admit we survived."

* * *

><p>Bilbo suddenly set his teacup aside and got to his feet with a sputter. "How," he demanded. "Could Dain have doubted this? He saw Kíli in the flesh!" He flung out an arm toward Kíli, sitting just to the right of the fireplace in Bag End.<p>

"Apparently his council insisted on an attempt to locate Gandalf," Fíli said. "We didn't know it, but most of our Uncle's company had dispersed already. Dwalin was off to the Iron Hills, Oin and Gloin headed to Ered Luin to bring family back. Balin had been sent on a diplomatic mission to Gondor...Dain's people suspected some trick—an elvish enchantment of some kind that had confused Dain's eyes. Gandalf had seemed certain that we were both dead, after all."

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and bounced on his heels, frowning. "That," he admitted. "May have been my fault." He rubbed one hand across his brow and turned around in a circle of frustration. He looked at Fíli. "I told him…" he cringed, his expression bleak. "That I saw you die...that I'd seen Azog stab you and you'd fallen. Gandalf had so much on his plate, and when Dain's lieutenants told us they'd not found your bodies, there was some," Bilbo stopped to swallow. "Concern, you see...that as Thorin's kin...there had been plundering. That there wouldn't ever _be_ anything to recover..."

Fíli flinched. That was an unpleasant thought. "Not an unreasonable speculation," he said. "That was how it went with Thror...they never recovered more than bits and pieces, really."

Kíli nodded and looked away. "Everyone assumed the same with Thrain as well." He shrugged. "There were those who told Thorin that rumors of Thrain's survival were just wishful thinking, that the orcs would have torn him apart."

Tauriel, who'd been silent, looked shocked. "This is horribly grim, my friends."

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I agree. My apologies," he said, nodding to her. "In any case, you're here now. Gandalf will be thrilled to know it."

Fíli's expression softened and he smiled a little. "He already does, Bilbo."

* * *

><p><strong>**AN Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM to let us know that you're reading along. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

I've noticed that tumblr has a tag naming this kind of story a fixit!AU. OMG! So many people want to "fix" BOFA. Totally loving that in fanfic land, we can!

Mahal's blessings to you in this new year. ** Summer (and Blue!)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Goodbyes and Hellos

**Chapter 6 - Goodbyes and Hellos**

* * *

><p>"Gandalf knows?" Bilbo's mouth hung open. "What….<em>how<em>? When?" Then his brow furrowed and he eyed his teacup grumpily. "No one tells me anything," he muttered.

Kíli laughed. "Ah, come now, Bilbo. He didn't know either, until just recently; and he doesn't come into the story until later." The young Prince set down his now-empty cup and settled back into the armchair, making himself quite comfortable. Fíli, too, sat; though much more stiffly, his blood doubtless still hot from discussing the betrayal of their kin.

Not for the first time, Kíli wondered about the wisdom of hashing all this out again. They had only just begun to truly heal, after all…

"Yes, the story," Bilbo refocused, looking at each of his guests in turn. "Continue, please."

"Aredhel was as good as his word," Kíli replied. "They did indeed return Tauriel to us for a short time later that day."

* * *

><p>Both Fíli and Kíli startled awake, instantly alert when a guard banged the iron door open and their elf friend was admitted.<p>

"We shall return soon," the guard said sternly, giving Tauriel a long look before slamming the door shut again.

Kíli nearly tripped over his own feet getting to her. His beloved—for so he had begun to think of her in his head, though they'd had no real privacy to discuss it—had gone to her knees almost instantly, hands covering her face in a show of vulnerability that had him pulling her against his chest protectively.

"Tauriel, _azinlaz_," he murmured into her hair. "Aredhel told us of Thranduil's sentence. Are you all right? Did they harm you?"

The elf maid shook her head, but did not pull away or make any attempt to answer Kíli. She was shaking with what he suspected were suppressed sobs, so the dwarf simply held her, running his fingers through her soft hair tenderly and whispering reassurances.

They stayed that way, Fíli hovering just close enough to assist if necessary, but far enough away not to interfere, for a good long while. Eventually, Tauriel sat back on her heels, brushing at wet cheeks before looking up to meet the anxious gazes of the young dwarves.

She sniffled. "I am sorry," was all she managed to get out before she choked on her own grief again. Kíli reached for her hand and entwined their fingers.

"There is naught to be sorry for," Fíli surprised his brother by saying, stepping closer. "You've done nothing wrong; you saved both our lives, Tauriel."

"Yes, and to what end? Now you are prisoners, to be used as pawns in a game of kings," she countered wearily. "I have failed; failed first in my duty as Captain of the Guard, failed to protect both of you from Azog's blade, and now failed to even accomplish anything good by begging for your lives. And I must pay the price-"

Kíli couldn't bear to hear anymore. "Stop!" he growled, a bit more heatedly than he intended. "Tauriel, stop. You cannot...you _mustn't _despair. Not all is lost, not yet."

"One hundred years, Kíli," she interrupted him. "_One hundred years_ I am to be imprisoned. And after I am released, I am still confined to the King's lands for the remainder of my life." She stared past him, the look on her face bleak. "Never to explore other lands, never to leave, never even to walk again amongst the treetops in the starlight…"

"Hush," Kíli took her face between his hands, urging her to look at him. She acquiesced. "That will not be your fate, _azinlaz_. I will not allow it."

"Nor I," Fíli added, stepping closer again and squeezing Tauriel's shoulder. "Now come. Aredhel brought you some tea, he insisted that you drink it at once when you arrived." He held out her cup and the small sachet. "Healer's orders."

Tauriel took the sachet, a look of recognition dawning into one of wonder. "Aredhel gave you this? For me?"

"Mmmm," Fíli affirmed. "Downright odd behavior, if you ask me. He probably could've taken it straight to you. But there you have it."

Kíli watched Tauriel; something funny was going on here. She was looking at the small pouch as though Spring had come early. The despair on her face was fading, to be replaced by hope, lighting her green eyes and bringing color back to her pale cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked. "Tauriel, what does it mean?"

She looked at him, blinking as though she hadn't realized her face was betraying her-which, he reflected, she possibly hadn't. A moment later, she stood and moved to the cell door, looking left and right, obviously checking to be sure of the absence of guards.

Seemingly satisfied they would not be overheard, the elf maid turned back to her friends, beckoning them over.

"See this rune?" She asked, pointing to a swirling symbol stamped on the side of the sachet. Both dwarves nodded. "It is a code," Tauriel managed a small smile now. "'_Edraith'_. It means 'rescue'. The ink will fade when I place the sachet in boiling water."

Kíli blinked, struggling to grasp the concept. An elf, sending a code to Tauriel in a way he was certain not to get caught, implying that he would, what, exactly? Help her escape?

A venerable, old elf would disobey his king thus?

Perhaps more easily than a younger counterpart, Kíli realized. An older elf would be more secure in himself, less worried about consequence and more concerned with what he felt to be right. He imagined the Healer also remembered a time before Thranduil became such an isolationist; his history lessons with Balin had mentioned that the alliance between the elves of the Greenwood, the Humans of Dale and Esgaroth, and the Dwarves of Erebor had once been strong. _Unbreakable_. Elves had once been honorable allies.

It made a sort of sense, then, that one such as Aredhel would help her.

"He means to help you escape," Fíli murmured in awe, looking up and meeting Tauriel's eyes. "We have an ally among Thranduil's ranks, it appears."

Kíli couldn't help but smile.

It was contagious, and before long, all three of them were grinning like idiots.

The guards brought their rations for supper—three servings, which they took to mean she would at least be with them for a little longer—and the companions ate together with all the cheer they could muster.

Hope of escape or no, it was still a wrench knowing they'd likely not see one another again for a long time. Reluctant to sleep with Tauriel's departure nearing, Kíli sat beside her after supper. They said little, but it didn't matter. After Fíli curled up under his blankets several feet away, they still sat, backs against the wall. Kíli reached for Tauriel's hand, and she took it, entwining their fingers and running her thumb over his knuckle as they simply waited.

_Together_.

But his elf-maid became more tense as the hours passed. Kíli could feel it in the way her shoulder rested against his, in the way her fingers held tighter as night passed into morning. He understood—_Mahal_, he was right there with her—but even still, her words, the first spoken in hours, surprised him.

"_Guren garnú nílu ní cil elí amär_," she whispered hoarsely.

Kíli looked up at her, cursing his lack of knowledge of Sindarin. "I don't know what it means," he murmured, grieved. She gave him a small smile.

"I think you do."

He couldn't help it; he kissed her then. It wasn't the stuff of legend, that kiss; a simple meeting of lips, all softness and grief and promise, hope that he tried to impart to her and desperation that she needed him to understand.

He did. He deepened it in response, bringing a hand up to stroke her delicate jaw and swiping at the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. _Mahal_, he could lose himself in this, if only they had _time_…

And then it was over. Tauriel pulled back just a little, gasping a sob, and Kíli drew their foreheads together.

"It will be all right, _azinlaz_," he murmured, punctuating each word with a sweet kiss on her lips, cheeks, nose. "We will be together again soon."

She nodded, and then gave a tiny moan as she looked to the cell door. Kíli knew what it meant without asking; her hearing was much better than his.

They were coming.

* * *

><p>"By the Valar," Bilbo whispered, face pale. "They took her from you?" He looked hastily at Tauriel, seemingly uncomfortable talking about her as if she was not there. "They took you from them?"<p>

All three companions nodded. Bilbo could see the remembered trauma of it in all their eyes—even Fíli's. He could only imagine what it must have been like; waking from such a horrific situation and spending months healing beside someone. To have only your brother and your friend; it made sense they would have grown very close during that time.

And then to have one stolen from you, forcibly taken? He shuddered as he realized; it would've been worse than what he experienced after the Battle of Five Armies, because he'd at least still had his own health, his own freedom, and plenty of friends to ease the way to healing after that ordeal.

His guests—his _friends_—had only had one another. Until they hadn't.

The thought made Bilbo want to kick something—and he was not a hobbit given to fits of aggression. His face must have given him away, because a hand rested gently on his arm, and he looked up to see Fíli's blue eyes watching him, a small smile on the dwarf prince's face.

"It is all right, Bilbo. All is well now."

"Perhaps," he huffed. "But it was not always so. You were wronged, all of you, by those you should have been able to trust. It is a deeper wound than any the orcs inflicted." Forcing himself to breathe deeply, the hobbit settled back in his chair. The kettle and cups needed to be washed and put away, and he really should start thinking on supper soon; but he _needed_ to know the rest of this story.

"What happened then?"

Kíli looked thoughtful. "Things happened fast after they took Tauriel."

* * *

><p>The younger of Dis' sons awoke abruptly at the slamming of their cell door. He sat up quickly, abashed that the guards should see him curled around Fíli as he was—as he had spent the last few nights, since Tauriel's forced departure. Kíli knew he should be ashamed of himself for being so very vulnerable, but the one time he'd tried to apologize to Fíli and pull himself together, his <em>nadad <em>had shushed him and squeezed him tighter.

He had quieted, and they'd spoken no more about it. Kíli wondered if perhaps Fíli found as much comfort in the gesture as he did, if Thorin would be ashamed at how codependent the two had become since the battle.

But Thorin was no longer here, and he supposed if anyone had a right, they had.

But now the guards had barged in on their sleep, shattering whatever small measure of privacy Kíli felt they'd possessed, and they hadn't come with food or news or even orders.

They had come with hoods.

"F-Fee…" Kíli stammered, sitting up and making to stand. Beside him, Fíli was instantly awake, growling as he tossed the covers aside.

The guards said nothing, simply wrestled the exhausted dwarves into hoods and ropes. Though weaponless and blind, Kíli felt his curled fists land several good blows, heard the elves' grunts of pain, and he took some comfort in it.

"Kíli!" he heard his brother shout, and he reached toward the sound. It was his turn to grunt when something unyielding (a staff, perhaps?) smacked his arm away, and he cradled it close to his chest.

"I'm here, Fíli!" he answered.

"Silence!" A voice ordered as he was forced forward, but he balked and aimed a kick in that direction. His bare heel hit leather, hard, and he registered a Sindarin curse he'd heard Tauriel use before agony exploded in the back of his head and all went dark.

He woke to a jarring pain in his bad leg, cried out before he could stop himself. The world was dark—he still wore the hood—and his hands were bound behind him, but someone was shouting orders and he was lying on something hard.

"You spineless cowards!" Fíli was bellowing nearby. Kíli moaned and curled in on himself—_Mahal_, his head ached—cursing his reckless streak. "Kíli?" His brother's voice was close, panicky. "I'm here," he groaned, pulling himself toward Fili as well as he could with his hands behind his back. The dwarves maneuvered themselves so they sat, shoulders touching.

"Where are we?" Kíli asked as whatever cell they were in seemed to shift and begin moving forward.

"Some kind of palanquin," his brother growled. "Prisoner transport, I'd guess."

"Transport where?" Kíli wondered aloud. Had Dain agreed to the terms? Were they to be freed? Or had he refused the deal and they were being taken somewhere to be more permanently imprisoned?

What of Tauriel?

Kíli's chest positively _ached_ at the thought of her, alone in a cell, bereft of even the comfort of starlight for any amount of time, much less _one hundred years_. An entire century, left to languish in a stone prison until that beautiful fiery spirit dwindled to nothing and her skin forgot the warmth of the sun.

Death would've been kinder.

His only comfort was Aredhel. Surely the old elf would not allow it to come to that. But even if he managed to help her escape, would Kíli ever see her again? How would he know she'd been freed? How would he find her?

"I am here, Kíli," he heard his brother murmur, and it was only then he realized he was trembling.

"I know," he managed, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. He felt cold, weak, and frighteningly shaky. Thorin had warned them of this, they had trained for it: when the body had been through enough trauma, it sometimes began to shut down to conserve energy, to help preserve life. Such a response could be fatal if it came at the wrong time.

Like now.

Beside him, Fíli began to hum softly, a tune their mother had used often to calm them after nightmares. Kíli heard it as if it came from far away, but he latched onto it and forced himself through the breathing exercises they'd been taught as dwarflings.

"That's it, Kíli," he heard Fíli murmur between verses. "Come back to me, _nadadith_. We're together, it's all right."

He began to hum too, and mercifully, the guards bearing the palanquin said nothing.

The journey seemed to take hours, but Kíli could hear birds and sunlight was making its way through his hood when the wood box was set upon the ground. Wind met his skin moments later, and hands closed around his forearms, pulling him forward.

Panic threatened again when he could no longer sense Fíli beside him, but he swallowed it and stumbled onto numb feet. The guards unbound him and he didn't wait for them to remove the hood, ripping it off and breathing deeply of the morning mountain air.

Kíli's eyes widened.

Fíli was nearby, as stunned as he, and they were standing on grey stone ruins, the Lonely Mountain before them. He felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized precisely where he was standing.

_Ravenhill_.

Thranduil had returned them to exactly where he found them, where he had saved their lives for his own gain, where it had all started.

The elven guards hoisted the palanquin up onto their shoulders again, and the ranking guard looked back, his green eyes unreadable.

"You are free," was all he said, then they were gone.

Kíli found himself incapable of either speech or movement, even more so when his gaze landed on the marble pillar at the foot of Ravenhill. He seized Fíli's sleeve and gestured to it, mute. Fíli's eyes grew wide, and his already-pallid skin whitened further.

Without a word, both dwarves ran down the steep, rugged hill as fast as they could. It was a run that would, once upon a time, have not even phased Kíli; but despite the training they'd done in Thranduil's dungeon, by the time they reached the pillar on the edge of the small lake, he was panting harshly and his leg was in agony.

Fíli reached out and ran his fingers over the Khuzdul runes that adorned the white marble.

_Here fell Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror; and his sister's sons, Fíli and Kíli, Sons of Dis._

Kíli took a deep breath, the loss of his Uncle slamming into him like a pack of wargs. He was shocked to hear a sniff from next to him; he turned to see Fíli, head bowed as he leaned against the pillar, his fingers nestled into the grooves that made up Thorin's name.

He was sobbing.

It was the first time Kíli had seen Fíli cry since they awoke in Thranduil's dungeons, _Mahal_, _months_ ago now.

"Oh, _nadad_," he murmured, drawing his brother close as they mourned anew their loss.

The Sons of Dis stood there for longer than either of them realized, before nearby footsteps brought them back to the present, followed closely by a shout of alarm they recognized. Kíli looked up and his eyes went wide.

A young dwarf stood a few yards away, a leather-bound book and quill in his hand, mouth hanging slack in absolute shock. Kíli shifted so Fíli was behind him, shielding him and protecting his dignity while he composed himself. Kíli felt his lips curl up in a smile.

"Hello, Ori," he said.

* * *

><p>"<em>Guren garnú nílu ní cil elí amär<em>,"—Sindarin, "My heart is yours until the remaking of the world."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy Tuesday, everyone! There were definitely tears as this chapter was being written, so I hope it touched you all as much as it did us. **Thanks** once again for reading, and don't forget to drop us a review or PM to let us know what you think!

Also remember to check out our individual fics at **summerald **and **BlueRiverSteel **on this site. They're both in really exciting places, and only getting better as we go!

Cheers!

**Blue (and Summer!)**


	7. Chapter 7 - Under the Mountain

**Chapter 7 - Under the Mountain**

"That's...I'm speechless." Bilbo's eyes were wide and shocked. "Utterly, completely speechless."

"Except for those six words," Fíli said with a lopsided grin, watching their friend try to digest the story they'd been telling.

Bilbo stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Never mind," Fíli shook his head. "I understand your point." He stood, his teacup in hand. "Shall I help you clear these? Could you use a break?"

"What?" Bilbo shook his head a bit. "No," he said quickly. "No, no. I'd…" he angled an eye at Fíli, obviously recalling the last time the lads had helped with his dishes. "I'd much prefer to let my guests relax here by the fire." He stood, making stay-put motions while collecting up the cups, saucers and empty sandwich plates before trotting off. "I have a beef pie in the oven...lots of sausages I can fry up…" They heard his voice echo down the hallway.

Tauriel stood, peering closely at small portraits and hand-bound books on Bilbo's shelves, hunching a bit to keep from bumping her head. Beef pie and sausages were not quite her usual fare, Fili realized, glancing at his brother.

"What about dandelion greens?" Kíli called after him, looking at Tauriel apologetically.

"Or cabbages...carrots, that sort of thing?" Fíli added.

Bilbo popped his head around the corner. "Excuse me?" He understood the care and feeding of dwarves well enough to be shocked at the mention of _greens_.

"For Tauriel," Kíli widened his eyes at Bilbo, a bit surprised that the hobbit would forget a guest.

Bilbo smacked his head. "Of course, of course. My apologies, dear lady." He shook his head as if running through the inventory of his pantry in his mind. "I have good walnuts and pears right now...with a little wine vinegar and greens perhaps…? Blue cheese?"

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "That sounds amazing, actually. Yes, please!" She smiled at him, then frowned. "But, blue cheese? I didn't know it came in colors…"

Bilbo shook his head. "It's not blue, exactly," he rolled a hand in an apologetic gesture and then held up one finger. "I'll put it on the side." And with that he was off.

"Do you really have to tell him everything about the next part?" Kíli asked. "I think we'll just upset him."

"I think we've already upset him," Fíli replied, looking in the direction of Bilbo's kitchen. "I'm not fooled...are you?"

Kíli shook his head. Leaving Tauriel to the book she'd pulled off Bilbo's shelf, both brothers made their way to Bilbo's sunny kitchen, finding him leaning over the sink.

"Bilbo?" Fíli asked.

Bilbo sniffed, turning halfway toward them with eyes red and tears on his face. "It's the onion," he said, tilting his head toward a chopped onion on the sideboard.

"No it's not," Kíli murmured, his hand reaching gently for Bilbo's shoulder. Fíli took the washrag from Bilbo's hand and dropped it in the sink, pulling the shaky hobbit into his arms for a full hug.

"It's all right, Bilbo. We miss him, too," Fíli murmured.

Bilbo let out a gasping sob. "Just...a _memorial_...right there...that place…!" Bilbo seemed to be holding his breath.

"Just breathe, Bilbo," Fíli smiled sadly.

Bilbo nodded, huffing shakily and wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, apparently chagrined at being found sobbing in his kitchen. "I feel like I should go see it. Lay an oak leaf at its feet…"

"No, Bilbo," Kíli said in a quiet, deep voice, leaning against the distraught hobbit's back. "It's better that you honor him here."

Fíli nodded. "Let us help you with dinner. Ours and yours," he said. "And we'll tell you the rest."

Kíli stepped back, patting Bilbo between the shoulder blades. "You hear the whole of it and you'll know why. Besides, the Arkenstone may lie on Thorin's tomb deep under the Mountain," he grinned.

"But we took something more important back to its rightful home." Fíli smiled. That was the real tale in all this and Bilbo deserved to know.

Bilbo blinked back tears. "More important?"

"Dinner first," Kíli said, grabbing a hot pad and making to peek inside the oven.

Bilbo made an exasperated sound and grabbed a hand towel, snapping the younger dwarf on his backside. "Not until it's _ready_," he said pointedly.

It was not long, however, before dinner was served, enjoyed, cleaned up (without any plates being tossed or broken) with no more than pleasant chatter about the doings of the Shire, Bilbo's oak tree sapling, and a promise to go for a walk on the morrow to check on it. Afterwards, the three travelers joined Bilbo outside his front door for an evening smoke.

At least the brothers smoked with him, sitting in tilt-back chairs and lighting up with Bilbo, who sat in his favorite garden bench fashioned from unmilled tree branches.

Tauriel rather pointedly sat upwind of them, not entirely approving of pipeweed. Bilbo had supplied her with a freshly opened bottle of Shire wine, which she tasted and approved, and she unabashedly stretched herself out on the grass, her head practically in his nasturtiums. The yellow and orange blossoms framed her laughing face as she watched confused hummingbirds approach, pause, and fly off chirping their puzzlement.

Kíli watched her, a happy smile on his face.

"Smitten," Bilbo observed.

Fíli laughed. Kíli and Tauriel were so busy looking at each other that they'd missed Bilbo's comment.

"What is this, exactly?" Bilbo asked Fíli quietly, looking at the dwarf and the elf.

Fíli smiled. "Friends."

"Friends?" Bilbo looked skeptical. "Are you sure there aren't...what would you call them? Dwelflings? On the way?"

Fíli laughed out loud. "You know, there's never been a half dwarf. Half-elvens, yes." He drew on his pipe and let the smoke out in a long, slow breath. "The dwarves are Aüle's folk." He shook his head. "We come from the earth. Elves and men and hobbits...you are children of Illuvatar."

"Huh," Bilbo said, glancing at the lovebirds. "I'm not sure anyone told these two."

Fíli smiled. "Let it be, Bilbo. Galadriel blessed their love...that's good enough for me." He shook his head. "Besides, she can't return to Thranduil's realm any more than we can return to Erebor."

Bilbo frowned, started to object, then shook his head. "Explain that."

Fíli nodded and took up the story again.

* * *

><p>Ori stared, mouth open, unable to form words. Fíli blinked, leaning against the pillar and struggling to rise above his grief.<p>

"It's me, Kíli!" his brother was saying.

"Are you ghosts?" Ori whispered. "I'm seeing ghosts…"

Fíli shook his head and dashed tears from his face and stepped from behind Kíli. "No," he said firmly. "We're not ghosts."

Ori still stared, looking from one brother to the other.

"Dain didn't tell anyone, did he?" Kíli demanded.

Ori's eyes came up in alarm. "Tell what?"

"That we were prisoners in the Elvenking's dungeon."

Fíli saw the realization dawning on Ori's shocked face. "The elves had you?"

"Yes. Holding us for ransom."

"That necklace…" Ori looked like a lad who'd just added up a complicated equation. "That's what was in the lockbox. It was there yesterday," Ori pointed up the slope to the place where the brothers had been dumped from the palanquin. "Now it's not."

Fíli quickly realized the elves had found their prize, verified its authenticity, and booted them out on their backsides before making themselves scarce.

Ori's eyebrows went up. "And that's why!"

"Why what?" Kíli 's anger was barely in check.

"Why no one found our bodies," Fíli supplied. He wiped his eyes and pushed loose hair off his forehead.

Ori was nodding. Kíli reached out then, wincing with regret and pulling Ori into a hug. Fíli joined him, embracing their friend (cousin, if you believed the rumors…) after so many months apart.

Ori hugged back, one arm still clutching his book and quill, saying, "Oh, Mahal...oh, _Mahal_," over and over.

"Ori," Fíli managed, his eyes wide. "Tell me the truth...they didn't really leave him out here…?" he gestured to the pillar.

Ori looked startled, then shook his head. "No! Mahal, no." He turned to point back toward the Gate of Erebor, still fortified and from the looks of things, well-guarded. "There's a tomb. In the Halls of Kings…"

"Take us," Kíli demanded.

Ori looked frightened and he clutched his book and quill like shields. "It's not allowed," he whispered. "No one's allowed to go down there."

Fíli felt a burning anger flare in his heart at that. "Take us to Dwalin, then. Our cousin wouldn't stand for…"

But Ori was shaking his head. "Dwalin's not here. He went to the Iron Hills with one of the returning battalions…"

"Balin, then." Kíli said. "He'll know…"

But Ori was shaking his head again. "He was sent to Minas Tirith. A diplomatic mission."

Fíli stared. "Oín and Gloín?"

"Headed back to the Blue Mountains. Gimli and his mother are still there. And Oín doesn't like Dain…"

"I don't think I like him, either," Fíli declared.

Ori shook his head again. "Don't say it too loud," he glanced over his shoulder. "You'll bring a reprimand."

"A _what_?" Kíli looked stunned.

"We owe Dain our allegiance and respect, and it's not proper to step above your station."

"You're part of the Company," Fíli said. "One thirteenth of all this is yours."

Ori's expression fell. "That's not how it turned out," he murmured. "It belongs to Dain, King under the Mountain. We're allowed to stay, but not as part of the Rank and File."

Fíli stared.

In the distance, somewhere near the gate, a great bell rang twice.

Ori turned, panic on his face. "That's the second bell," he said, stashing his quill inside his coat. "I'm due for cleaning duty at the half. I've got to go…" He looked back at Fíli and Kíli . "I'll sneak you inside if that's what you want, but we'll have to be quick."

Kíli glowered. "Sneak?"

Fíli didn't understand. "We're Thorin's heirs. Why would we sneak…?"

Ori made an exasperated face at them. "Please. Come inside quietly. It's better—believe me."

The brothers stared. Kíli stood with fists clenched and brows lowered in angry consternation as he looked at Fíli.

Fíli narrowed his eyes. "I'm beginning to smell some kind of rat, brother."

"Please," Ori said, his voice quiet and worried. "Let me take you to Bofur…just…don't attract attention."

* * *

><p>Bilbo was sitting with his pipe in his hand, the glower on his face nearly equal to Kíli's darkest look. "Thorin," he said firmly. "Would have someone's head. What in Eru's Hell was that about?"<p>

"We found out soon enough," Fíli said. "The place was a model of military efficiency, I'll give it that."

Kíli was looking at them now, a disgusted frown on his face. "I call it Dain's version of the gold sickness," he said, shaking his head. "Obsessed with protecting his right to rule...he controlled everything down to the exact time of day that poor Ori was allowed to sweep donkey dung out of the main hall."

Bilbo screwed up his face to object. "Ori's not a janitor," he sputtered.

"No," Fíli said. "But he was declared '_unfit for service'_ in Dain's battalions."

"As were we," Kíli muttered.

"Wha…?"

Fíli nodded. "All we got in answer to our written inquiry was a note penned by some scribe. _To the prisoners recently released from the Woodland Realm: you are assigned to mine tailings duty and quarters with the fifth class support crew."_

"Not even second class?" Bilbo asked, deadpan. "I would have thought that, at least."

Fíli glanced at him, then realized the hobbit was being sarcastic.

"Nah. Definitely fifth class. Would have been sixth or seventh if Dain could count that far."

"At least we built back our strength," Kíli said.

Tauriel looked at him with her feelings apparent. "You are trained warriors. It was an insult, making you carry rock when they wouldn't let you fight."

Fíli didn't comment. He wasn't sure how much about their time in Erebor Bilbo needed to hear.

"On one hand, Dain ignored us, so the Iron Hills commanders ignored us," he said.

"Which we came to recognize as a good thing," Kíli acknowledged. "They didn't pay attention to us at all, really. Not even when Bofur snuck us down to the Hall of Kings to visit Thorin's tomb."

"We did it in the dead of night, mind you," Fíli added.

"Dust. I couldn't believe the dust," Kíli huffed.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "Dust?"

Fíli sighed. "On our uncle's tomb. Plain stone box. They didn't bother to post an honor guard, burn a flame of remembrance, or even run a dust cloth over the stone once a week."

"We brushed away the dirt with our hands."

Fíli nodded, recalling that solemn duty. Kíli had swept one hand across the dirt, glowering in disgust and grief. And then they'd both endeavored to clean the stone, stripping off vests to use as dustcloths, sweeping it clean and polishing the stone.

_Thorin…_

Bilbo was staring at him, mouth open. Fíli wondered if the fellow would burst in a fit of pique…but the poor hobbit just seemed stunned. Tears welled in his eyes.

Fíli reached across the space between them and patted Bilbo's knee. "Believe me, we were far more angry then than we are now."

Bilbo nodded and looked away. After a moment his hand patted Fíli's.

"What made you leave?" he asked finally. "I'm not sure I can hear all the details of your stay. But you obviously left. Tell me that."

Fíli realized that the hobbit had reached the limit of what he could bear about the new reality inside Erebor.

"The ruby," he said.

Bilbo's expression froze and he looked thoughtful. "The one Thorin gave you?"

"Threw at my head, you mean? That one?"

Bilbo nodded.

"Turns out he'd found something that rightfully belonged to our mother," Fíli said. He smiled at Bilbo, trying to reassure him that they were all right now.

Bilbo's eyebrows shot up. "Your mother? Wasn't she just a small child when the dragon…?"

"Yes," Fíli said. "She was. About ten years old, I think. Very young."

"And this thing was hers?"

Fíli smiled. "Hers by right."

* * *

><p>One week after they'd managed to visit Thorin's tomb, Fíli lay on his dormitory bunk next to his brother's, staring dully at the stone ceiling, hands behind his head.<p>

He'd spent enough years as a trainee in the Blue Mountains not to object sleeping in a dorm. But Erebor was Thorin's. He had broken the siege, he had routed the dragon…he had taken back the Mountain. By rights, they should have private rooms in the royal quarters. By rights, they should be given positions of authority or at least been rank on the night watch...allowed to carry swords.

He understood—barely understood—the legal reasoning behind Dain's ascension to the throne.

He was a crowned Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, descendant of Durin in an unbroken male line.

Thorin had been an un-seated Prince who'd never been confirmed. He and Kíli were considered second-rate descendants through a female line.

Unacceptable in the eyes of the Seven.

So Cousin Dain had been given sole right to occupy the place with several thousand Iron Hills warriors. His hold was tight, and Fíli stewed constantly about possible ways to oust the bastard.

Bofur counseled patience. "Wait for Balin. He'll come back—he told me as much."

So Fíli waited…but he was beginning to understand Dain's tactics. Balin would be delayed; he would have trouble winning the concessions Dain wanted from the men of Gondor, and then odds were he'd find himself beset by fell weather and bad luck in the wilds.

In the meantime, Fíli had not gotten anywhere near Thorin's cousin. He was assigned to the Fifth Class Support Crew and as such, not allowed above the Gate level or anywhere near Erebor's ruler.

The sound of a door opening broke the slow simmer in his head. It was Kíli, dragging himself in after ten hours of hauling rock. He hung his dusty work coat on a hook and slumped to his bunk in a dejected heap.

"Kíli …" Fíli rose to see his brother sitting, head in hands. He joined him on the edge of his bunk, leaning against Kíli's back in an attempt to console him.

Kíli didn't even look up. "What's the point?" he whispered. "All we did was escape one prison for another." Their eyes had met then—there was no denying the truth of that statement, and Fíli knew his brother's thoughts constantly turned back toward the Woodland Realm and the unknown fate of the friend who had saved their lives.

"The elves were kinder, to be honest," Fíli added. They appreciated that hard work had helped them regain lost strength and forced them back into fighting trim, but there were better ways to accomplish that.

They looked up at the sound of shuffling feet.

It was Ori and his brother Nori, coming towards them with a rolled-up bundle.

"Hello, Fíli …Kíli ," Ori nodded to them, eyes solemn and sad.

"Cheer up, lads," Nori said quietly. "Took me a bit to find the right time for it, but I finally nicked your things back from Arsefoot's goon-faced guards."

"Shhh," Ori hushed his brother, looking around to see who might've heard the impolite names.

"I really don't care, Ori." He dumped the bundle into Fíli's lap and untied a string.

"Is this…?" Fíli unfolded the bundle enough to recognize the sleeve of a woolen tunic. "From Laketown?"

"Yeah, that's the thing you were wearing when you made it up here after the dragon." Nori looked left and right, checking again for anyone who would see them and then he knelt at Fíli's knee, his hands busy unwrapping the rough cloth. "But it's the thing in the pocket here that you need to see," he said, digging into the folds until he came up with something. He quickly shoved it into Fíli's hand and then stood. He nodded once, then turned to stride away.

"Anyone asks, some random dwarf left that here. No one you know." And then he was gone.

Ori's eyes were actually twinkling. "Balin told me that Thorin gave that to you," he whispered. "When we all thought you were dead, he asked us to look for your things…that you had something that needed to be sent back to Ered Luin."

Fíli held up a faceted ruby roughly the size of a baby's fist. "This?"

Ori covered Fíli's hands with his. "Yes!" Ori actually laughed. "Tuck it away, you idiot. Hurry!"

Fíli slid it into his pocket, Kíli watching as if not quite sure what he'd seen.

"That's _The Heart of Durin_," Ori whispered, smiling with a happiness Fíli'd not seen on anyone's face since they'd arrived weeks before.

Kíli sat up. "Are you sure?" His voice was low.

"Balin said yes," Ori nodded. "It belongs to your mother," he said. Then he stood and grinned, held his finger to his lips, and backed away with a wink. Moments later, he was off, no doubt heading for his next cleaning station before he earned a demerit for tardiness.

Fíli put one hand over the pocket where he'd stashed the large stone. "Do you know what this means?" he murmured to his brother.

Kíli was pulling his better boots out from under his bunk. "It means we have a very good reason to get the hell out of here," he hissed.

Fíli had nodded, feeling suddenly full of life and purpose as he'd not felt since things had gone dark that day on Ravenhill.

* * *

><p>"So, I'm right in thinking that stone is important?" Bilbo was squinting at him.<p>

"It is indeed," Fíli answered. "Thorin and our mother were the children of Thrain of the line of Durin…but they were also the children of our grandmother Ró, of the line of Nái."

Bilbo perked up. Hobbits quite liked family histories and Bilbo especially cherished Thorin's.

"In truth," Fíli went on. "Nái's line is as rich in our history as Durin's because she was Durin's only daughter. And legend tells us that the ruby was hers—it was recut at some point, ages back...and named _The Heart of Durin_. Thorin found it in Smaug's pile…he gave it to me trusting I would make sure it was put into the hands of my mother."

"But dwarven things like that…they aren't just jewels." Bilbo was obviously waiting for more.

"That's right._ The Heart of Durin_ carries a powerful gift. It bestows upon Nái's heir not only the right to rule in her own name, but for the line of succession to pass from her to her female descendants."

Bilbo blinked. "In Dwarf law? This is honored in the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Yes," Fíli said. "It's the only exception in all dwarfdom. It's not considered one of the seven kingdoms because the Heir of Nái is not a King. It's a ladies' thing and considered hidden knowledge. In any case, The Stone and The Right were thought to be long lost, even though Thrain married Ró, heir to the line of Nái."

"So your mother, with that stone, is the one with the real right to rule Erebor." Bilbo looked as though he had solved a complex riddle.

"Our mother," Fíli clarified. "Could rule anything she wanted. But she never wanted Erebor…that was Thorin's dream. Never hers."

"So, what…?" Bilbo began, then he stopped himself and held up a hand. "No, don't tell me. The story's getting out of order. So you took the ruby and left with the goal of taking it to your mother as Thorin intended."

Fíli nodded.

Bilbo took a long draw on his pipe, obviously thinking hard as he looked from Fíli to Kíli, and then at Tauriel. "And now, since _you_ are obviously here," he said to Tauriel. "How did you escape your prison and find your way back to the lads?"

* * *

><p><strong>**AN Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM to let us know that you're reading along. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

Mahal's blessings to you, wherever you are! ** Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

** Summer (and Blue!)**


	8. Chapter 8 - Under the Stars

**Chapter 8 – Under the Stars**

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><p>Tauriel sat up, folding her long legs beneath her and smiling. Bilbo was shocked at the difference in her demeanor since they'd arrived—she seemed more carefree, happier, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. It suited her, he decided.<p>

Of course, he remembered that the last time he had seen her, it had hardly been the proper time for lying in gardens and smiling over past adventures.

"Oh, it was quite the impressive feat," she said in answer to his question, her tone light—and maybe a little teasing? Bilbo couldn't help but smile at it.

"If you had any part of it, my lady," he said smoothly, "I am certain that is a true account."

Fíli laughed aloud while Kíli adopted an air of mock jealousy. "All right, Master Hobbit," he growled, moving to sit on the grass beside the elf, who had an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Stop your flirting and let the lady speak."

Tauriel laughed then, the sound musical in a way Bilbo hadn't quite gotten used to, and he felt a surge of joy seeing his friends happily lounging in his garden.

He was certain if Thorin could see them like this, he would wear one of those quiet smiles Bilbo had only had the privilege of seeing a few times. The one he reserved for his nephews, full of fondness and memory and pride.

Though, the hobbit reflected with a smile of his own, Thorin may have balked at the presence of the elven archer in whom Kíli had found a perfect complement to his own heart. He almost laughed at the mental image, but Tauriel was speaking now.

"It was really all Aredhel's doing, truly." She looked off into the distance, as though it would make it easier to tell the tale. "When Thranduil spoke of one hundred years in isolation, he certainly meant it."

Kíli shifted almost imperceptibly closer.

"I had no interaction with anyone save the guards who brought my meals," the former Captain continued. "And even they would simply shove the food into the cell and leave. I had a single, barred, tiny window to allow daylight in, but no other source of illumination. I was given a blanket and soaps, had a small natural bathing pool, and was checked by a Healer once in a while to ensure I was healthy."

"Is that how Aredhel got you out, then?" Bilbo asked, wide-eyed.

Tauriel smiled thinly. "No. He was not my Healer, they wouldn't let him near me. At least, not until I nearly died."

Bilbo nearly came out of his seat in indignation, stayed only by Fíli's hand on his arm. The golden-haired dwarf gave him a sympathetic smile and motioned to the elleth, as if to say_, just wait. Just listen_.

* * *

><p>Tauriel eyes snapped open with a gasp, and she sat up abruptly, wincing when a wave of dizziness threatened to send her back into the black oblivion from which she had just escaped.<p>

"Slowly, _íell_," a gentle voice encouraged her softly. "And quiet, we mustn't be heard."

"What?" she mumbled, confused and dizzy and _oh Valar she was going to—_

She scrambled to her knees and threw up quietly. Firm hands rubbed her shoulder blades and the gentle voice spoke to her still.

"It is to be expected, after such a draught. Calm yourself, Tauriel…"

But five hundred years of warrior training was not so easily forgotten, and the red-haired elleth was on her feet scant seconds later, stumbling backward as she tried to remember the sensation of her legs beneath her, hands raised in a defensive position.

"_Dar!_" she said through gritted teeth. Valar, her head _hurt_. "_Nuith anglenna, hui!_" The Sindarin rolled off her tongue almost without her realizing it, before she blinked and what she was seeing really registered.

Aredhel stood before her, mostly obscured by the shadows of the pillared hall in which they stood. His hands were held before him in an expression of surrender, and he held her eyes, willing her with his own demeanor to remain calm.

"It is me," he said softly. "I am here to help you. You must remain _quiet_, Tauriel, or we shall be caught."

_Aredhel. I am safe._

She lowered her hands and took a deep breath. "Master Aredhel." Suddenly she remembered the last few moments, and blushed in the low light. "I am sorry for…" she motioned vaguely to the pile of sick. "All of that."

Aredhel smiled and came to her, holding a small vial. "It is a common thing for healers to deal with," he answered. "Here, drink this. It will ease the headache."

"What is it?" she popped the seal on the small glass container and drank the clear contents in one gulp. It burned a bit going down, but her head felt better almost instantly and the nasty taste in her mouth from being sick was even lessened considerably.

"My own blend of peppermint, athelas, and aloe," Aredhel smiled, pulling her by the arm. "It will help counteract the poison."

Tauriel couldn't help it, she pulled up short. "Poison?"

The Healer pulled her along, sending her a truly wicked smile. "Yes of course. Had you not noticed you were feeling poorly in that cell over the past weeks?"

"Of-of course," she began walking again, her steps uncertain. "I thought…I thought it was to be expected. That I would falter and fade to nothing during that sentence…" She remembered it; the intense headaches, the mind-numbing exhaustion, the bone-deep sense of apathy. She had thought she was fading, and had counted it a mercy from the Valar themselves; for Fíli and Kíli had been sent back to Erebor and would have long since forgotten her, and Aredhel could not reach her. To have her spirit taken to the Undying Lands was better than anything else Arda had to offer her.

And so she had not fought it.

Aredhel shook his head, then peered around the pillar and pulled her across the hall to a wooden door. He produced a key from his robe and unlocked it as quietly as possible—though it creaked and squealed as if rarely used—then pushed open the door, ushering her through. "No," he whispered. "Your spirit is far too strong to fade entirely even after one hundred years of isolation—it is why Thranduil gave such a sentence, he knew you were capable of handling it—much less after five weeks."

"Then who poisoned me? And…why?" she asked, confused.

"I did, young one," Aredhel answered patiently, leading her through a dark tunnel lit only by the small torch he had taken from the pillared hall. "And quite a feat it was, too, getting that _saew_ into your food, in very particular doses, so as not to kill you outright, and at the correct time for you to be found by a Healer before it was too late to save you. As to why, well, I should think it obvious."

_To save me._

"Healer Aredhel," Tauriel whispered, squeezing his arm. He turned back to her. She twisted her hand over her heart formally, overwhelmed. "Thank you."

He nodded once, a gesture of respect, and pulled her forward. "Do not thank me prematurely," he said tightly. "We've yet to escape Thranduil's halls. They will know I did not rush you to the Healing Wards soon; we must make haste."

"Where are we?"

"These tunnels were hewn during the excavation of this mountain," Aredhel answered. "Thranduil assumes them empty and has never used them. He will not expect an escape this way. However, our way out is through several tunnels, not one, and they will require us to cross some guarded paths. I have memorized the guard schedules at each one to give us the highest chance of success, but we must be quick and careful."

Tauriel absorbed his words instantly, her training standing her in good stead. All business now, she shook back her unkempt hair and braided it to keep it out of the way.

* * *

><p>The elleth startled a bit as Bilbo let out a small cheer, standing from his seat and pacing with his hands clenched. Her green eyes followed him, and he did feel a little embarrassed for such an outburst, but he couldn't help it.<p>

"I should very much like to meet this venerable elf Healer," he declared, smiling so hard it was nearly painful. "So he got you out?"

"Aye," Tauriel laughed. "It was a close thing a couple of times, but we did eventually leave Thranduil's Halls. He had been in contact with these two—" she motioned to the dwarf brothers, "—so we met them north of elven lands and followed the Forest River out of the Mirkwood to the west."

Bilbo turned to the lads. He didn't even have to ask any questions before Kíli took up the tale. "We thought—we _hoped_—Aredhel planned to spring Tauriel, we just didn't know how or when—"

"—We had no way of contacting him," Fíli interjected.

"—So we sent a raven to scout Thranduil's halls," Kíli finished. "A pretty young hen named Ryxi. She stayed in the shadows and just watched, came back and told us Tauriel was still imprisoned and that an older elf was watching her very carefully. We suspected it was the Healer, of course; Fíli wrote him a heavily coded note and had her carry it. Aredhel remembered Erebor's golden age, so he was no stranger to the use of a raven as a messenger."

Bilbo laughed with delight. "A raven! How wonderful!"

"Indeed," Kíli grinned. "And as soon as they were out, Ryxi led them our direction."

* * *

><p>Kíli huffed as he paced, unable to calm himself. He knew his brother, sitting against a tree and sharpening one of his countless knives, was glaring at him, still sore about their earlier fight.<p>

"_We've sent Ryxi in there twice already, Kíli, this is the last time." Fíli crossed his arms and adopted what Kíli had always secretly called his Bighead Brother Glare. "If she hasn't found anything more worthwhile than the fact that Tauriel is still locked up, we have to go."_

_Kíli wanted to stomp his foot. "I won't leave without her."_

_Fíli threw his hands up. "Honestly, Kíli, use your head, will you?! The Heart of Durin needs to be returned to Mother; it was Thorin's wish." Fíli had glared at him. "We may have lost Erebor—but this gives her Ered Luin. Do you understand?" He had let his breath out in frustration. "What do you think will happen if we try to spring Tauriel and get ourselves caught? I promise you," he held Kíli's gaze with his own. "Thranduil will not let us go again!"_

"_Then we'll escape on our own, we've done it before." Kíli set his chin stubbornly, but even he knew Fíli had a point. _

"_We didn't do it at all, Bilbo did!"_

"_It's worth the chance, Fíli! I won't abandon her!"_

_His older brother was quiet, expression falling from anger and frustration to…betrayal? _

"_But you'd abandon Mother?"_

Luckily, Ryxi had flapped into the clearing where they waited a moment later, before Kíli had finished processing the question, with news that she'd located Aredhel and he seemed to understand she was a messenger. Fíli had penned the note and sent her off again, then hunkered down by the tree, back to his brother.

Kíli knew he was going to have to talk to him at some point, but decided it was best to let Fíli have his temper for a while first. The older Durin was unlikely to listen to him in such a mood.

So the lads had waited overnight, talking to Ryxi as she came and went, the otherwise silent clearing tense. Kíli wasn't afraid to admit he was worried. There were so many things that could go wrong—what if Aredhel double crossed them? What if he couldn't get Tauriel out? What if they both were caught trying to escape?

Thranduil would have no mercy. Her punishment would be twice as severe if he caught her.

Kíli growled in frustration as he looked around again, searching for any sign of Ryxi or the two elves.

"You're going to hurt yourself, _nadadith_," Fíli said, with an air of long-suffering.

Kíli resisted the urge to snap at him, and instead sat—_flopped_, was probably a more accurate description—on the ground beside his brother. Fíli didn't smile or even look at him; but he also didn't move away, which the younger took as a good sign.

"Fee, I—" Kíli started to say, but he was interrupted by the call of the barely-grown hen they'd sent to Aredhel.

"Many-Legs! Many-Legs!" she screamed as she crash-landed on Kíli's arm. He cradled her close to prevent her falling, trying to calm the obviously agitated bird.

"Good girl," he cooed. "That's a good lassie. Tell me again, Ryxi. What is wrong?"

The hen bobbed her head, upset. "Tall ones stopped by Many-Legs! Near, near, no shining sticks, no throwing-sticks!"

"Spiders," Fíli breathed. "Tauriel and Aredhel have no weapons."

Kíli sent Ryxi into the air and followed his brother, their feet pounding the underbrush as the little raven led them toward where she'd last seen their companions.

_Hold on, Tauriel, we're coming._

They crashed into the little copse bristling with weapons. Kíli took a moment to count while Fíli threw himself headlong into the melee: six spiders, all spiny hair and beady eyes—_far too many beady eyes_—and thick legs. They were trying to bite or sting the two elves that stood back to back in the midst of them; but even weaponless, an elf was no easy target. Aredhel, healer or no, had clearly had warrior training; he spun and punched and kicked viciously, seeming to know exactly where to strike to cause the most damage. Behind him, Tauriel did the same, though her strength was severely diminished, Kíli could tell even from here. Her face was pale, her strikes less lethal, her parries slower.

The largest of the beasts seemed to notice it too, rearing up to get clear of her punching arms and butt her with its considerable weight. Kíli lined up his shot and let fly, an arrow burying itself to the fletching in its biggest eye. The creature screamed in agony, falling backward, and Tauriel ducked just as Fíli flew through with his short swords to behead one on her left.

Kíli took out one more with his bow and then drew his longsword, relishing the chance to fight.

Between the four of them, the spiders lay dead mere moments later. Kíli's eyes flicked to his brother, giving him a once-over to ensure he was all right. Fíli was panting, splattered with ichor and trembling from exertion, but he saw Kíli giving him the same treatment he was giving and flashed him a grim smile.

He was fine.

Kíli looked to their companions—Aredhel was helping Tauriel stand, but her eyes were searching for him. She found him, and the most extraordinary expression twisted her face. It seemed to be equal parts joy, distress, and fear. So of course, Kíli did the only logical thing in such a circumstance—he ran to her. She did not wait for him, but started his direction and went to her knees just before he crashed into her. Kíli pulled her tight against him, tangling his fingers in her messy braid and just holding her.

_Mahal_.

"Lass," he croaked through a voice suddenly tight. She just buried her face in his neck in response.

"Thought I'd never see you again," she mumbled, and Kíli shuddered at both the thought and the way her lips moved against his skin.

"I would never have let that happen."

"You almost didn't have a choice, _meleth_ _nin_."

"Believe me, I'd have made it my choice."

Tauriel pulled away, eyes watery, and Kíli swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She looked at him through wet lashes and laughed, running her fingers over his face as though it was a lost treasure found.

_Ah, my lass. So beautiful._

"Oy, you two!" Fíli called from somewhere to their right. Kíli didn't bother looking, but Tauriel did, with a smile. "Come on, some of us are fugitives here, we need to keep moving!"

Kíli laughed, and Tauriel stood, both turning to follow Fíli and Aredhel. The elleth threaded her fingers through his and didn't let go.

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><p><strong>AN:** Happy Hump Day everyone! **Thank you so much for reading**, don't forget to drop us a review or PM with your opinions—we're always thrilled to hear them! Below are a couple of translations and chapter notes, feel free to check those out too.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team, don't forget to check out our individual stories at **BlueRiverSteel** and **Summerald** on this site! Blessings to you all! **—Blue (and Summer!)**

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><p><em>Íell—<em>"daughter, young lady, maiden" (Sindarin)

"_Dar! Nuith anglenna, hui!"—"_Halt! Do not come any closer, dog!" (Sindarin)

_Saew—_lit, "poison" (Sindarin), a plant which causes paralysis of the voluntary muscles—including those used for breathing, causing slow death by asphyxiation. However, it does not damage the heart or nervous system, so if breathing restored quickly via the antidote or maintained artificially until the paralysis wears off, the victim will survive. Aredhel laced Tauriel's food with tiny doses of it for weeks, forcing her body into a stupor (that her guards would doubtless notice), before giving her enough to actually cause asphyxiation, at which point he was called for, as the Master Healer.


	9. Chapter 9 - Riverboat and Moonlight

**Chapter 9 - Riverboat and Moonlight**

"What about Ryxi?" Bilbo asked. "Did she stay with you?"

Fíli smiled. "For a day or two."

"She belonged to the Erebor flock," Kíli said. "And she missed her kind, I think."

Fíli laughed. "Probably had a young lad back at the Mountain."

Bilbo smiled. "She was a brave little flier, though. To have done so much for you..."

"_Where do you go little bird, when it snows…?_" Tauriel's voice lilted with a half-sung happy tune.

"An elvish poem?" Bilbo asked, brows drawn with interest.

Tauriel's laugh was light-hearted. "Just a child's rhyme," she said, looking wistfully at the stars coming out in the deepening Shire sky. "Do you not sing such songs to hobbit children?"

Bilbo blinked. "I'm...I'm a bachelor. I suppose my mother sang them to me…but don't get me started on songs and poems," he waved his pipe. "The night is young and you're not nearly done with this tale. Something tells me there's much more to it."

Fíli snorted. "There is indeed, Master Hobbit."

* * *

><p>The two elves and the two dwarves made themselves scarce after dispatching the spiders, seeking to get as far from that territory as they could. They zig-zagged through the undergrowth, heading generally north and west through thick groves and across ferny streams. Fíli and Kíli had the stamina to go for hours, especially after the long days they'd worked hauling rock in Erebor, and Aredhel was as silent, swift, and tireless as only an elf could be.<p>

But Tauriel was straining to keep up.

"She's not well," Fíli said to his brother as they raced along a deer trail.

"Rest and food," Kíli panted, dodging a low branch and staying at Fíli's heels. "That's all she needs."

Fíli nodded. The furtive way she started at every sound told him she needed to be re-armed as well. There wasn't anything he could about the rest or food, but he knew he could help out with the weapons.

By mid-afternoon, Aredhel motioned them into an overgrown gully and they ducked into it, finding a hidden spring of pure, clear water. The elf healer stood sentinel while Kíli helped an exhausted Tauriel to the water's edge where she dipped her head to drink. Fíli tossed his empty waterskin to his brother.

As Kíli filled it, Fíli went on one knee next to Tauriel. He had two hunting knives on his belt that he pulled free and lay on the ground between them.

Tauriel looked up, her careworn, tired expression lifting in curiosity.

He pulled out four different short-bladed skinners from hidden sheaths in his coat, three sets of throwing blades from straps on his thighs, a short-handled machete, a long-handled beared axe, and two broad-bladed daggers.

He looked up to see Tauriel staring at him.

"A few more," he said, drawing a long knife and setting it alongside the others. He thought a minute, then divested himself of one falcata and a pair of curved kukri blades.

"And these," he said, drawing out six boot knives. He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Thought you might want to take your pick."

Kíli looked over her shoulder. "The falcata," he said. "Maybe the long knife."

Tauriel blinked at Fíli. "You're offering me one of your blades?" she asked.

Fíli shrugged. "Shame to see you hindered in a fight. Besides," he looked at her. "I can't fight with them all at the same time. Take whatever you can use." With that, he stood a walked around the spring, kneeling at the little stream that ran downhill from it to wash his hands. He and Kíli had re-fitted themselves with Erebor weapons compliments of the wily Bofur and a back door to the armory. And of course Fíli retained the new set of twin falchions he'd commandeered. But as he bent to wash his face, he heard Tauriel's voice.

"I couldn't," she murmured to Kíli.

"I think you can," his brother answered in a gentle voice. "He wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it, _azinlaz_."

Fíli made of point of looking busy with patting his face dry and then re-strapping a boot, but from the corner of his eye he could see the lass run her fingers over the long knife...her eyes considering the kukri blades. Then she lifted both kukris, executed a neat opposing-force movement, and Kíli smiled.

Fíli stood and walked back to them.

Tauriel crouched and went through a series of defensive positions with the kukri, moving slowly as if just practicing. By the last moves she was on her feet, looking both deadly and skilled if not slightly out of practice.

She stopped when she came face-to-face with him.

"Take the long knife, too," Fíli said, nodding his approval of her instinct for the kukri. "A couple of throwing knives."

He thought she might refuse at first. But her pose relaxed and she weighed the blades in her hands.

Their eyes met, she nodded once, and then inclined her head toward him more formally.

Fíli understood. With respect, he bowed his head in return. "We are heading west," he said. "Are you coming with us?" He almost didn't want to hear the answer, fearing that wherever the elf went, his brother would follow.

Would this be how they parted?

She shook her head and Fíli's gut went hollow. He tried to harden his heart against the choice his brother would have to make.

"I must see Aredhel to Lothlorien. He cannot stay here, not after this." She shook her head and looked toward the place where the old healer stood sentinel. "He's lived in Lorien before. He wishes to return."

"Lorien," Kíli breathed. "So near the Dimrill Dale…"

Fíli blinked. At least part of his brother's brain was still thinking _dwarf._ "Mirrormere," he murmured. "It is a place sacred to Durin's folk."

Tauriel looked at Kíli, then back at him. "If we make for Lorien together, is this not best?"

Fíli looked at his feet. Clearly, his brother wanted to be with the lass, and to be honest, traveling together would put off the decision that was in their future: would Kíli remain with him and return to Ered Luin, or would he go with the elf?

"I agree," Fíli said to Tauriel. "You are not well...we're all safer if we stay together and make for Lorien." But before he could say more, Kíli was there, arms wrapping tightly around him in a happy bear hug worthy of Beorn himself.

"_Nadadith_," Fíli choked out, half-laughing. "Let me breathe…!"

Kíli pulled back, his eyes bright with something Fíli hadn't seen in him since The Shire.

_Hope._ Kíli had hope.

"Thank you," Kíli said in a shy near-whisper as he stepped back. "Sorry I was so stubborn...but I'm glad we waited for them."

Fíli rubbed the shoulder with the healed orc-wound. "Yeah...well...at least it's worked out." They looked at each other a moment, yesterday's argument done. "Sorry, too." Then he nodded toward the blades still spread out on the grass. "What will the Healer want?" he asked.

Tauriel considered, blinking. The lass moved slow and the dark circles under her eyes showed her exhaustion. "The falcata...and one of the hunting knives."

Fíli knelt, set the two aside, and then tucked the remainder back inside his sheaths, pockets, belts, and boots. "I'll just go take these to him," he said picking up the two blades Tauriel had selected. He nodded to Kíli, leaving them to each other. He wasn't sure what the future really held for his brother and the elf lass, but he wouldn't begrudge them a little privacy.

So he left them at the spring and walked up the slope to find Aredhel. As it was, he had to scan the glade twice to see exactly where the venerable elf was standing.

"Thought you might make use of these," Fíli offered the two blades.

Aredhel looked at them, an almost sad expression on his lined face.

"I have not carried a blade in many long years," the elf murmured as he reached for the falcata and wrapped his hand around the hilt. "But my hand well recalls the weight of one." He lifted it, testing his grip.

"What is wrong with Tauriel?" Fíli asked.

Aredhel explained then how he'd used slow poison to prompt a call to him for healing.

"We owe her our lives for saving us on Ravenhill," Fíli said. "And you as well. She wants to make for Lorien with you. If you will have us, we can travel along. Four will be safer than two."

Aredhel nodded. "There is a settlement of men where the Langwell joins the Anduin," he nodded north and west. "I have in mind the hiring of a drift boat to take us downstream. Perhaps a pair of dwarves making inquiries is less telling than an old elf doing it." His smile was kind, his offer of an alliance easy.

Fíli agreed. "A pair of scruffy, wandering dwarves passing through a human settlement is fairly unremarkable."

Aredhel smiled. "Then let us be partners, Master Dwarf," he said, securing the falcata's sheath on one hip and the long knife on the other.

Revived by the brief rest, the unlikely foursome continued on, keeping to unknown paths and heading unerringly west toward the headwaters of the great river Anduin.

Two days of steady travel later, they could see the ruins of Framsburg across a wide, gravelly ford. It was nothing more than a small hamlet of rustic traders inhabiting the outskirts of an old, crumbling city.

"This was once the capital of the Éothéod," Aredhel told them as they peered through brambles and considered the paltry few small boats pulled up on the opposite shore. "Before they moved south." Indeed, the hardscrabble men and women here were wheat-haired and hardy, sturdier of build than the men of Esgaroth and Dale.

The two dwarves quietly combined the few Erebor coins they had and prepared to leave the elves hidden in the woods. To the south, a rocky shoal extended into a bend of the shallow river.

"We will meet you there," Aredhel told them. "I would prefer Tauriel and I remain unseen."

Fíli agreed.

Together, he and Kíli crossed the river on a narrow footbridge and blended into the small crowd of the hamlet's trader market. They spotted two or three other dwarves, whom they avoided, and they took their time making their way along the stalls and booths. Fíli bought a supply of dried venison. Kíli bargained for a leather cloak with a hood that looked as though it would fit Tauriel. It might help them pass without the giveaway of her bright hair.

At the end of the marketplace, they came to the line of drift boats.

"We're looking for passage south," Fíli said to the first man.

He was answered with an up-and-down once-over and the shake of a head.

"How far south?" a second man asked.

"Past the Gladden," Kíli replied quietly.

Another shake of a head.

They inquired with four more men until they reached a leather-clad frontierswoman with a tall, skinny girl who was nearly Fíli's height. Fíli thought she was near the age of Bard's youngest daughter. The woman, tall and light-haired, leaned on a paddle and narrowed her eyes.

"Past the Gladden, eh?" She eyed them, noting their sword hilts. "Pair of dwarves. Young dwarves," she added.

Kíli made a hand-on-heart bow to her. "Would you be willing to hire? To take us that far?"

She tilted her head skeptically. "You have gold?"

Fíli kept his hand low, but opened it to show two coins. "Two now. Four," he said pointedly, "When we arrive at our destination."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You and what else?" The woman obviously expected cargo.

Fíli shook his head. "Nothing but us," he said. Then he smiled. "And two companions."

The woman looked from Fíli to Kíli, then shrugged. "I am Raega, this is Briar. That's our boat."

The brothers looked at the well-used, flat-bottomed drift boat. It had high sides, faded white-wash, a few dents and scrapes on the wood, but room for all of them and a large mottled tarp obviously used to cover trade goods.

"Can you leave today?" Fíli asked.

Raega held out her hand and leveled a steady eye at him. "For those two coins, Master Dwarf, we can leave right now."

* * *

><p>"A boat? A drift boat?" Bilbo stared at Fíli, then shook his head. "Don't trust boats. Was that really your best choice?"<p>

Fíli laughed. "Lucky for us, we're not hobbits and we like boats just fine," he said. But Bilbo noticed that he didn't have a merry twinkle in his eye—that Fíli's expression held a touch of sadness. He looked at Kíli and Tauriel, who both looked away.

"What...what happened?" he said, almost fearing to ask. "With the boats, I mean. Were you cheated? I can see from your expressions that something…"

Fíli held up a hand. "I'll tell you, but let me say it my own way."

Bilbo nodded. He glanced at the three travelers again, realizing that whatever it was, these three at least had survived.

"All right, yes." He leaned back and puffed his pipe, trying not to look impatient or worried. He really did want to hear the whole thing.

"Turns out Raega was a very good friend and guide," Tauriel said, her eyes looking at the night sky.

"_Was…_?" Bilbo asked.

* * *

><p>Raega's drift boat was a far better craft, Fíli decided, than the scavenged boat they'd all used to flee Laketown. Fíli helped toss their gear inside and push off, giving young Briar a boost.<p>

"I met a lass about your age in Laketown a while back. Tilda. She wore a dress, though."

Briar looked at him with round eyes. "Leathers for me. I hate dresses."

Fíli heard Raega laugh. The boat-woman wore leathers as well.

"We're about to pick-up another lass," Kíli offered, settling his pack in the bottom of the boat. "She's not much on dresses, either."

"Show me where your friends are. And if this is some kind of ambush…" Raega glared at them, obviously all too familiar with the kind of petty crime that would rob a drift-boater of a her income or her life.

Fíli held up his hands to show he was no threat and nodded to the eastern shore, downstream. "Two elves. An old healer and a lass who's been...recovering," he said, avoiding any mention of the truth—that Tauriel was a fugitive escapee. He regretted that they were putting Raega and Briar in danger, but he was being as honest as he could.

Raega rowed the boat into the shallow current and let it drift south. When they reached the gravelly shoal outside of town, Aredhel and Tauriel were standing in plain view.

Kíli waved, Aredhel bowed, and Fíli wondered for a moment if Raega would bypass their companions.

But the lass dipped her oar in the water and turned the boat, expertly beaching it on the shore just past the place where the elves stood waiting.

Introductions were made, their scant gear stowed, and it was Aredhel who effortlessly pushed them off and gracefully eased himself aboard.

"Raega here has agreed to take us as far as the Gladden," Fíli reported, revealing that he'd not told Raega of their actual destination of Lothlorien.

Aredhel nodded while in the background, Kíli settled the hooded cloak around Tauriel, disguising her enough that she looked more human than elven.

"Two days, if we don't stop at night." Raega considered her passengers.

"Stopping is not necessary," Aredhel said calmly. "But staying out of sight is preferred." He looked at the mottled tarp.

"Help yourself," Raega said, her eyes scanning the tree-lined shore, her expression concerned. Clearly, she knew there was more to her passengers' story than a simple need to reach the Gladden.

The elves settled themselves back-to-back under the tarp while Fíli and Kíli posted themselves in the bow, acting as lookouts. They scanned the shoreline, and Kíli kept his bow handy. Fíli had his throwing knives, and on one stop to portage the boat around a roaring waterfall, he acquired a collection of good throwing stones with sharp edges.

The first night they stayed on the river late into the evening. The skies were clear and they traveled with the current under a bright, full moon.

Tauriel, having actually slept a bit under cover of the tarp, woke to the gentle lapping of water against the boat and the bright stars overhead.

Fíli watched her stretch, then sit up, her eyes wide as she looked at the bright, starry night sky. For the first time since they'd awakened in Thranduil's prison, she looked genuinely happy.

Before midnight, they passed the confluence of the Anduin and the Rindath, and as the boat eased into a wide lake, Fíli watched young Briar move to sit closer to the tall _elleth_, obviously fascinated with the elf woman. Tauriel, in turn, smiled and offered to re-braid the girl's straw-gold hair.

"Why do you look at the moon?" Briar asked.

"The moon is sacred to elves," Tauriel answered. "_After the_ _Darkening of Valinor_ _and the destruction of the_ _Two Trees__,"_ she recited, "_Telperion, the White Tree, bore one last Flower of Silver before its end._ _Aulë_ _and his people made a vessel to carry to the silver flower aloft, and_ _Tilion__, one of the hunters of_ _Oromë__, was granted the task of steering the new Moon through the sky."_

"_Aulë_ _and his people _means dwarves made it," Fíli added.

Tauriel looked at him as if affronted, then he saw her expression change as she realized this was so. She looked at Kíli as if seeing him in a new light.

Kíli grinned and shrugged.

"So the elves say that dwarves made the moon?" Briar asked as Tauriel wove three slim braids together.

"Well, they made vessel it rides in," Fíli answered. Then he shrugged. "If you believe the old tales."

"I've always heard that the moon is woman. Rána the wanderer," Raega said. "She is secretly in love with the Sun but they are never together for long."

At this, Briar blushed. She looked at Kíli, obviously aware by this time that he and Tauriel were a little more than interested in each other. She hid her mouth behind her hand as she giggled and Tauriel tied off the braid and sat back to admire it.

Fíli decided to distract the lass. "Where we come from in the north, there are a small people called hobbits. You'd like them. They sing songs about the man in the moon."

"Really? A man…?" Briar asked.

Fíli nodded sagely. "So if you ever find yourself in The Shire, be sure to ask."

An hour later, Raega beached the drift boat on a small island that split the river, and she led them to a sheltered camp.

"I've used this site before," she said as they settled around a stone fire pit. "It is safe enough for tonight. Tomorrow you will be at the Gladden."

With chagrin, Fíli faced Raega. "About that," he said. "We'd rather go a little further south, to be honest."

Raega looked dubious. "How far south?" she asked.

Aredhel inclined his head to her. "Caras Galadon."

Raega's eyebrows shot up. "Caras Galadon...perfectly safe. Getting past the eastern shore by Dol Guldur?" She shook her head no.

Yet Aredhel took her aside, spoke softly to her, and as Fíli watched, the river woman's demeanor went from refusal to tentative acceptance.

"The people of Lorien would make good on that? To escort us north again?" Her return trip north would be more dangerous than their quick trip south, Fíli realized.

Aredhel bowed to her, hand on heart. "I would see to it myself."

* * *

><p>"So Raega took you all the way to Lorien?" Bilbo asked. The same moon was rising, a thin crescent in the Shire sky.<p>

"Not exactly," Kíli said, looking sad.

"We lost Raega," Fíli told him. "Orcs on the eastern shore. She was right to be worried about passing Dol Guldur's lands."

Bilbo stared at them. "What? How….?"

"Random arrow shot from the trees. Happened so fast we hardly knew there was danger. One shot, through the heart." Fíli touched his chest and shook his head. "By the time I got to her, the light was already gone from her eyes."

Bilbo blinked. "Just like that?"

Tauriel reached for Kíli's hand. "Our own archer shot back. Four orcs, likely stationed there to just prey on anyone going downstream. We couldn't have known."

"Did you get them?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes," Kíli said sadly. "But the damage was done." He looked at his hands, dejected at the memory. Shooting orcs after the fact was no consolation for the loss of a brave friend.

"Fíli grabbed the oars and aimed us away from the shoreline, and Aredhel tried to revive her," Tauriel said quietly. "I caught Briar—at first she cried out and struggled…" Tauriel's eyes were wide at the memory. "I thought she might tip the boat. Then she seemed to know her mother was gone and she just went so still…" Her voice broke and she shook her head.

"So we made it to Lorien," Fíli looked at Bilbo with sadness. "But Raega was no longer with us."

* * *

><p><strong>**AN Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**

* * *

><p>**The source for Tauriel's recitation of the moon lore: <em>The Silmarillion<em>, "Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor."

It is, however, purely my own speculation that _Aulë_ _and his people _means dwarves. And yes, Raega's version of the Rana story is intentionally off...my other speculation is that the versions of moon stories told by the Men of the upper Anduin have drifted a bit over time...;P Cheers! -Summer.)**


	10. Chapter 10 - Broken and Remade

**Chapter 10 – Broken and Remade**

* * *

><p>Bilbo was silent for a moment, mourning the loss of a lass he'd never even met. It was clear his friends were still haunted by the memory, short time though they'd known Raega.<p>

With a jolt, a question hit him. "What of Briar?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "She is not with you, clearly; did she make it home safely, or…?"

Kíli laughed a little, and Fíli wore the most extraordinary expression—equal parts irritation and fondness. "That little spitfire is alive and quite well, never you fear," the younger of the brothers answered. "She came with us to Lorien almost by default."

"Ah, Lorien!" Bilbo leaned back in his seat. "Tell me of Lorien, lads. What was it like?"

Kíli and Tauriel shared an affectionate smile, and Fíli's eyes were wide. "It was beautiful in a way I've never seen before," he looked nearly reverent. "Even Rivendell couldn't match Lorien for allure."

"Aye," Kíli agreed, taking over the story at a nod from Fíli. "And its Lady even more so."

* * *

><p>Weary and heavy-hearted, the five travelers happened upon Lorien's guards the evening after Raega's death. They had taken time to burn her body on the shores of the River—an odd tradition, but young Briar had insisted, muttering something about orc filth digging her mother up and desecrating the remains. Kíli had winced at the thought, but supposed it made sense given her people's hard life on the plains. Tauriel had helped the lass ready her mother's body while Aredhel stood guard and the lads prepared the pyre. Rough as it was, Briar had favored them both with a look of gratitude and lit the dry tinder herself.<p>

Kíli had recognized the expression with which she had watched her mother's body burn. Pale face, hard eyes, thin lips—it was the same expression Fíli had worn in the days following Thorin's death, after they'd woken enough to understand that their Uncle was gone. Like he'd felt for his brother, Kíli wanted nothing less than to fold the child into a tight hug; but given the way she shrugged Tauriel's hand off her shoulder and refused to so much as speak to the rest of them made him think it was likely to be an unwelcome gesture.

So when the vast forest of Lorien appeared on the banks of the river, Kíli noted with some relief that Aredhel and Tauriel stationed themselves in the prow, standing tall and deliberately easy to spot.

"Ground us there," Aredhel pointed to a sandy river beach on the western shore. Briar dug her oar into the water and guided the heavy boat to land. Fíli and Kíli beached the craft as the elves gathered their meagre possessions and disembarked. Briar stood in the middle of the drift boat, blinking furiously.

Tauriel paused, then approached her slowly. They exchanged words Kíli could not hear, and the girl swiped at her wet cheeks angrily before hopping over the high side of the boat with a simple leather pack. She stumbled a little when she hit the sand, but recovered on her own and made to follow them.

Tauriel nodded to Aredhel, who clearly understood it to mean the human lass was staying with them, at least for now, and led them forward.

They'd been trekking along the quiet forest for nearly an hour before Kíli ventured to ask their guide, "How long until the Guards find us?"

Aredhel chuckled a little. "They have seen us already, young Master Dwarf." He turned back and bestowed a small smile on the gaping dwarves, who were looking about in alarm. "The Warriors of Lorien are renowned as the most stealthy and mindful of all elves. Believe me, they know we're here."

"Then why do they not confront us?" Fíli asked, fingers twitching toward the nearest of his many knives. Aredhel fixed him with a stern look.

"Tauriel and I are elves," he replied. "And you have yet to draw your weapons. If you wish to enter this realm as a free dwarf, I suggest you remain calm and leave your blades sheathed."

Fíli's jaw clenched, and _Mahal_, if Kíli didn't know exactly how he felt. He itched to feel his bow in his hands suddenly, as little difference as it would make against such talented warriors. He looked back at Tauriel, who was bringing up the rear of their group behind young Briar, and she nodded in agreement of Aredhel's words.

Kíli sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists to loosen the tension in his arms. He reminded himself to breathe, then noticed with something akin to relief that Tauriel was having less trouble keeping up. She was still thin and pale, even for an elf; but the previous few nights' decent rest and open sky was already beginning to do her good.

The realization made him turn away so no one would see him smile in spite of everything.

"The elf speaks aright," a strange voice said, and Kíli suddenly found himself nose-to-tip with a long arrow. Instinctively, he reached for Fíli without taking his eyes from the tall, flaxen-haired guard that had him in its sights. His brother squeezed his forearm and didn't let go—Kíli knew he was resisting every urge to draw a knife or one of his falchions in the face of this new threat.

"_Mae govannen, Haldir_," Kíli heard Aredhel greet one of the guards in a calm voice. "Pray you withdraw your weapons from my friends' faces; they clearly mean you no harm."

"Aredhel?" a second voice answered. Kíli still wouldn't look away from the one in front of him to see who was speaking. "Many long years it has been since last I saw you."

A scuffle behind him drew Kíli's attention, a small growl followed by a, "get that _out_ of my face!" Tauriel called Briar's name, but apparently not before she made a foolish move; by the time Kíli turned to face the trouble, the lass was held in a tight lock by a snarling guard, a shining knife at her throat, her eyes narrowed as she clearly contemplated another move to escape.

"Briar, hold," Tauriel commanded firmly. "Do not move."

"_Darta!"_ the second, commanding voice rang out, and the guard holding Briar settled instantly, though he did not release her. "Aredhel, what is the meaning of this?"

Kíli chanced a look at their Healer, who was holding his hands before him in an expression of innocence. "The maiden and I"—he referred to Tauriel—"have left Thranduil's realm due to irreconcilable differences of opinion. The Dwarves are Sons of Durin; Thorin Oakenshield's sister-sons, Fíli and Kíli. The human and her mother were our guides on the river. We need only to rest and refit, and I would request an audience with my Lady Galadriel, if she is of a mind to see me."

A stern-looking guard with hair so blond it was almost white—Haldir, Kíli assumed—took Aredhel's shoulders in his hands, his expression softening. "She will be most pleased to see you, _brûnmeldir,"_ he said. "As I am."

Kíli breathed a little easier. Haldir looked away from Aredhel and nodded to the guards. "_Leitha_," he commanded, and the weapons were withdrawn, if not sheathed or relinquished entirely.

* * *

><p>Meeting the Lady Galadriel was unlike any experience Kíli had ever had. Haldir had led them into the elven city in the forest, to glowing lights inside twisted trunks of massive trees, the air charged with magic and ringing with the haunting notes of elf song. He was sure the wonder of it shone on his face, but he was too awed to do anything about it.<p>

Their path had led in a huge spiral up to the top of the tallest tree—Kíli felt a niggling sense of trepidation at that. Dwarves weren't created to be this far from the earth. But he forgot all about that as soon as Haldir presented them to the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.

Celeborn was impossibly tall, and like everything else in his kingdom, seemed to glow with an inner light that radiated from his pale skin. But though Kíli often found it difficult to tell the difference between male and female elves, it was impossible to mistake the blonde elf that appeared on Celeborn's left as anything but the famed Lady of the Wood. Her hair fell in golden waves down her back, her eyes a lighter blue than Fíli's, but no less expressive. She wore a welcoming smile as easily as she wore the silver robes with which she was adorned, and a sparkling circlet of tiny diamonds.

Kíli heard his brother's sharp intake of breath and knew he wasn't the only one bewildered by the Lady. Tauriel stepped up next to him, with an arm still around Briar's shoulders—though the lass looked unlikely to pick any fights at the moment, so busy was she staring wide-eyed at their hosts. Aredhel placed his hand on his chest and twisted it as he bowed, in a gesture of genuine respect. Celeborn smiled at his wife, whose eyes lit.

"Master Aredhel," she held her arms open. "It has been far too long, _mellon_, you are most welcome here."

"My Lord Celeborn, my Lady Galadriel," their Healer greeted. "It is truly a pleasure to see you both again."

Galadriel looked to the others, her expression equal parts fascinated and amused. "But who are your companions?"

Aredhel answered, but Kíli couldn't listen as the elf queen's gentle voice rang in his head. _Kíli, Son of Dis. You are known to me._

His eyes widened to near-comical proportions as he looked at her, uncertain how he felt about _anyone_ in his head, much less an elf whose consciousness felt powerful enough to squash him like an insect.

_How?_ he ventured silently.

_The Son of Durin afflicted by a morgul wound,_ she continued, looking sad. _And the younger of the Sons of Dis, healed by Thranduil and cheated out of the Throne of Erebor by a cousin. Much pain you have endured, young one._

Kíli flushed at the admission, but repeated his question. _How do you know all this?_

Her smile returned. _ I know many things. I know, too, that you come here torn; facing a decision that will shape your destiny. I say this to you, Son of Durin; fear not. Regardless of which path you choose, you shall not lose that which is dearest to you._

While Kíli stood gaping—at the entire situation in addition to Galadriel's reassurances of questions he'd only asked in his deepest heart—he felt Fíli pluck at his sleeve, not impatiently.

"Come, brother," he murmured. Kíli blinked and followed; noting vaguely that there was something, _something_ in Fíli's eyes that hadn't been there before.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one the Lady had spoken silently to.

The elf leading them—to guest quarters, Kíli thought—brought them back to the forest floor. After several minutes of walking and still gaping, they came upon a tree so massive, a door had been carved into its trunk. Their guide opened the door and ushered them in with a small bow, and Kíli realized there was an entire guest house inside this tree trunk.

Such odd customs, elves had.

"Rest well, wherever you wish," the young elf said. Tauriel thanked him, and he left.

Fíli was off exploring their quarters the moment the door had closed, but Kíli turned about, taking in the room and its occupants. They had evidently lost Aredhel somewhere, because Briar and Tauriel were the only other ones there.

"Where has he gone?" he asked.

"He stayed to speak with the Lord and Lady," Tauriel answered him, quietly. She looked slightly thunderstruck, and Kíli was reminded that she'd never left Mirkwood and was still relatively young, for an elf. Briar alone seemed to have recovered quickly from their meeting, and stood yawning expansively.

"There are three rooms," Fíli reported back. "Kíli, you and I can share; I thought we'd give the lassies one, and let Aredhel have his own." Nods met his announcement, and Kíli smiled as he bid goodnight to Tauriel and Briar, then followed his brother into the spacious room they would share.

Fíli was abnormally quiet as they readied themselves for bed—a heavy silence, not the companionable sort he was growing used to as his brother adjusted to the massive emotional traumas they had recently endured. It worried Kíli, and he placed a hand on his brother's cotton-clad shoulder.

"Fee?"

Fíli shook his head. "Not tonight, Kíli. I'm all right, I just can't…not tonight."

Disappointed, but understanding, Kíli settled in next to Fíli under the covers, pressing their backs together for warmth and comfort. He didn't figure he'd sleep much, with the question to which Galadriel had referred bouncing around in his skull:

Would he stay with Tauriel, or go home with Fíli?

He wanted Tauriel, there was no denying it now. He loved her, admired her pluck and endurance, wanted to make a go of something more than friendship with her. He almost snorted aloud: of course he, of all people, would've fallen for an elf.

But Fíli's words, spoken in anger though they'd been, still stung.

"_But you'd abandon Mother?"_ The implication was clear—Fíli felt betrayed by Kíli's affection for the elf lass, and that pricked him deep. Fíli was right; he had a promise to fulfill to his mother, and he didn't want to leave his brother, not even for a short time. Not after the last several months' worth of heartache. Fíli was the only thing that had kept him sane for much of it.

Eventually his brother's steady heartbeat and deep breaths lulled the younger prince to sleep, still wrestling with the decision.

* * *

><p>Bilbo watched Fíli's head droop a little as Kíli told of that night. "What did the Lady Galadriel tell you?" he asked, realizing belatedly it was an intensely personal question and he should never have asked it.<p>

But Fíli didn't seem at all offended, just plucked idly at a blade of grass. He seemed to consider the question, then answered quietly, "Only that love endures past all; past pain and death and loss and even past betrayal." There was nothing but peace in his expression as he met Bilbo's eyes. "I knew she referred to Thorin, to Mother, to Balin and Dwalin and all our friends from whom we'd been separated and I missed terribly...but mostly she referred to Kíli."

The younger brother smiled widely, punched Fíli's shoulder. "You're not rid of me that easily, _nadad_. I'm not going anywhere."

Noting Tauriel's nod of approval, Bilbo cocked an eyebrow as Fíli responded quietly. "You would have left me, Kee, to stay with your lass."

But Kíli was shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't have."

* * *

><p>He sat alone, the massive trunk of an oak at his back and its tangled roots surrounding him. He was thinking hard, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to be separated from Tauriel, for Mahal only knew how long, <em>again<em>.

But he would not leave his brother. This he knew, and this he was certain Tauriel would understand.

Kíli jumped a little when a soft sound came from behind him, hand drifting for his knife; clearly his battle instincts were not completely silenced even here, in what was nearly the safest place in Middle Earth. He relaxed when he looked over his shoulder and saw the very subject of his ruminations, her red hair shining in the dappled sunlight that made its way through the leaves.

"Tauriel," he managed a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. She sat gracefully beside him, her face truly peaceful as she leaned back and let the sun warm her skin.

"I was looking for you," she said softly, green eyes meeting his. As always, Kíli found himself captivated by her eyes—so much she said with them, not unlike his uncle had been in life. To a stranger, they would communicate nothing but ferocity and simmering danger; but to Kíli, who had always been more intuitive than many of his race, her eyes also spoke of hidden vulnerability, a soft and tender love for many things—starlight not least of all—and a youthful innocence that belied her true age.

It fascinated him.

"You found me," he responded, and her lips twitched in quiet amusement.

"I wish to accompany you on your journey, if you will have me."

"To Ered Luin?" he was surprised, and was sure she heard it in his voice. She sat up straight and looked him dead in the eyes.

"To _anywhere_, Kíli."

He blinked, trying to determine if she was serious. He had no reason to believe she wasn't—Tauriel was no joker, though she did have a rather dry sense of humor he loved—but he could hardly believe it.

"Tell me plainly," he pled. "Do you mean to say…you want to…?"

She took his hand, twisting their fingers together thoughtfully. "I want to be with you. I know ours would not be a…_typical_…relationship; I am a warrior, not a homemaker, and there is no real precedent for a dwarf-elf union, but…I want to try."

"Tauriel," he choked on his words. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "This will not be easy. Folks will hate us for this, and…you will endure long after I am gone to the Halls of Mandos. Are you certain this is what you desire?"

Those emerald eyes were steady. "Yes, I am. Are you?"

Blinking hard, Kíli leaned closer. "I am, _amrâmilê_," he whispered, and the endearment felt so right, so perfect for her. A smile spread slowly over her beautiful face, and Kíli felt his heart thump in his chest. Going to his knees, so he was slightly taller than she as they sat, he pressed his lips to hers for the second time.

It was just as breathtaking as the first.

* * *

><p>"I had already decided to stay with you when Tauriel asked to come with us," Kíli was still speaking to his brother, and Bilbo was struck with the sudden realization that he was watching these two heal right before his eyes. "I would have waited to be with her until Mother was safe and settled in Ered Luin, then sent for Tauriel." He smiled at his lass. "Perhaps we would have settled outside the Halls in a place of our own, or maybe somewhere closer to Duillond."<p>

Fíli's eyes were wide. "You were going to stay?"

"You think I'd let you go on a dangerous mission alone?"

Both lads sat, staring, silently working through the pain they had unintentionally caused one another. Tauriel looked between the two, obviously torn between frustration and trust that they would work it out.

Bilbo knew how she felt. They seemed to be having some sort of private conversation with their eyes, and it was incredibly frustrating to not be privy to it.

Slowly, Kíli began to grin; Fíli couldn't seem to help himself, he smiled too. Kíli nodded, and then Bilbo was well and truly shocked.

Both lads began to laugh. Small chuckles turned into amused snorts, which soon became hearty guffaws that echoed past Bilbo's front gate and into the small valley that led into Hobbiton. Bilbo looked to Tauriel, who simply shrugged as if to say, _let them have their moment_.

So Bilbo just watched Thorin's heirs laughing on his lawn and shook his head, amused.

* * *

><p><em>Darta—<em>Sindarin. "Halt, stay."

_Brûnmeldir—_Sindarin. "Old friend"

_Leitha_—Sindarin. "Release them"

_Amrâmilê—_Khuzdul, "My love"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy Thursday, everyone, **thanks for reading!** Loved bringing in Galadriel and Haldir for this chapter, hope you enjoyed them as well! Don't forget to leave a review or PM with your opinions—they're fuel for both our writer brains!

Remember, you can check out our individual stories under our separate pen names: **Summerald** and **BlueRiverSteel**. We both are at that point in our stories where the endgame is set and everything is about to go crazy, so it's the perfect time to check those out as well, if you like!

**Blessings!**

**Blue (and Summer!)**


	11. Chapter 11 - Farewell to Lorien

**Chapter 11 - Farewell to Lorien  
><strong>

Filí tried to catch his breath and stop laughing. Funny how misunderstandings seemed so silly when you realized how they looked from someone else's point of view.

"Ah, lads," Bilbo chuckled. "You'll be frightening Mrs. Twofoot's redcap layers down the hill and then we'll not have eggs for a week."

"Scaring the hens?" Filí tapped out his pipe, grinning like an idiot. He leaned forward to clean the bowl, noticing that his brother, predictably, had locked eyes with Tauriel and the two of them looked likely to forget where they were.

"That would definitely put a damper on Second Breakfast." He shook his head. "Can't have that."

Bilbo had also noticed that Kilí and Tauriel had eyes only for each other. He winked at Filí and sat back to finish his smoke.

Overhead, the sky had darkened to a full night but the warmth of the Shire day lingered in the air. It was a right pleasant evening, Filí decided, with the sky showing off its starry gems.

"Obviously you left Lorien," Bilbo said after the merriment settled. "Did Briar stay there? With Aredhel…?"

Filí shook his head, tapped his pipe one more time and pocketed it. "It was generally agreed that the young lass Briar should be returned to her people."

"Galadriel felt so," Tauriel said, weaving her fingers through Kilí's as she looked at Bilbo again. "She assigned an escort to take her back upriver and return her to Framsburg."

"So we said farewell to her," Filí said, but he couldn't help a wry smile and he could tell Bilbo's curiosity would not leave off until the story was fully told.

* * *

><p>On a still, misty morning a week to the day after their arrival in Lorien, Filí stood with his brother, Aredhel, and Tauriel, helping Briar get settled into her mother's boat. A full dozen elves of Lothlorien gathered to join her, two in the drift boat with the lass, and five each in accompanying elf canoes.<p>

But Briar was sullen. "I don't want to go back to Framsburg," she muttered.

Filí and Tauriel looked at each other. It was not unexpected that the girl was unhappy. Her mother was just eight days dead and the trip would pass again by the unfortunate place where it happened.

Kilí ducked his head, and busied himself with coiling a rope.

Tauriel knelt to speak with Briar, eye to eye. "But that is your home, young one. Do you not have family to rejoin?"

Briar didn't reply. She stared at her feet, blinking, and then Galadriel was there, smiling down at the girl who looked up slowly.

"_No vain i arad._" she said, brushing a wheat-colored lock of hair from Briar's face. "May the day be fair, young Briar. And your journey swift. Grief will not always weigh so heavily upon you." One of the ladies-in-waiting curtsied gracefully and held out draped cloth to Galadriel, who accepted it and held out a roughspun green cloak.

"I cannot return your mother to you," she said sadly. "But I will grant you the loan of a Lorien cloak. It will protect you and keep you hidden while you travel." She opened it and Tauriel helped settle it on the girl's shoulders.

Briar's expression went from sullen to mildly impressed, her fingertips brushing the soft, light fabric. She looked up at Galadriel, her eyes wide at the unexpected honor.

Galadriel's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Send it back with your escort, young _mellon_."

Tauriel nudged the girl, eyes wide at her lapse of manners and Briar was quick to stand straight. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, hand on heart and bowing, human-style.

Galadriel merely smiled as if amused and held up a hand, nodding once to the elven escort, and then gliding off, departing to Filí knew not where.

But he thought Briar a little too willing and too thoughtful when she stepped over the bow of her mother's driftboat to take a seat.

Kilí tossed her the coiled rope as the elves pushed silently off into the early morning mist and paddled for the main river. Filí didn't envy them—it would be several days of steady rowing against the Anduin's current. But at least Briar would retain ownership of her mother's boat and Filí had made sure she'd received all of the coin promised to Raega.

The following day, Filí and Kilí, with an escort from Haldir's guard and the blessing of The Lady, traced the Silverlode into the foothills to the place where a lone monolith overlooked a small, still lake.

"It is not safe to stay long," Haldir said, watchful for orcs with his bow at the ready. "But look upon the water as the sun sets, if you wish."

Filí and Kilí approached the still, sacred pool of water alone and stopped when they stood beside Durin's Stone. It was cracked, weather-worn, and broken at the top.

Much like the line of Durin itself.

"_Kheled-zâram_," Kilí murmured, turning his gaze to the still, dark water and giving it its name in Khuzdul.

Filí said nothing. He walked slowly to the water's edge, looking at the smooth mirror-like surface. He did not expect to see his reflection and indeed saw nothing but stars and the great jagged shadow of the granite ridge high above.

He fished in his inner pocket and pulled out the ruby that he carried—the Heart of Durin: a polished, faceted, solid hunk of deep red stone the size of baby's fist.

"_Mahal, _forgive me. I only wish to cleanse the stone in the light of Durin's Crown and return it to Nai's own daughter." And then he cupped the ruby in his hands and knelt at the waters' edge, letting the water surround and bathe the stone.

If he expected magical lights or visions of Aüle, he was disappointed.

But when he lifted his hands and let the water fall away, maybe—just maybe, the stone sparked a little brighter in the starlight. He closed his eyes and rested his head against his hands. _Mahal, lead me on the right path. Show me where my duty lies. What fight do I now fight? For what cause do I spend my days? _He felt rudderless and he wanted a sign, but with his uncle dead and their company scattered, from what quarter would that guidance come?

"The elves are nervous," Kilí said softly, coming up beside him.

Filí opened his eyes. The Mirrormere...so sacred, so dangerously unsafe.

"We should go…" His brother's voice was quiet.

Filí nodded and stood. He re-pocketed the ruby, and in silence the brothers returned to their elven escort and followed the Silverlode back to Lorien.

* * *

><p>"You saw...you actually beheld <em>Kheled-zâram?" <em>Bilbo's voice was just as quiet as Kilí's had been that night.

Filí nodded. "But don't ask me to make sense of it."

No one spoke. Filí became aware of crickets chirping—not the maddening drone of locusts or cicadas as he'd heard in rougher parts of the world—but a gentle churr-churr, no louder than meadowlarks.

"How long did you stay in Lorien?" Bilbo asked after a while.

"Not long," Fili murmured. "Though it's genuinely hard to tell time in that place. I think we left the next day. But we had a surprise before nightfall." Filí let his head fall back against his wooden chair, a sign that the surprise must have been annoying rather than dangerous.

"A surprise? Let me guess…" Bilbo drew a deep breath and also sat back. "Briar."

On the lawn, Tauriel heaved a sigh and collapsed on her back. "Feisty, unruly little ungrateful ragamuffin…"

Kilí burst into a fit of whole-hearted laughter. "We followed the River Nimrodel," he said, calming himself to speak to Bilbo, "Making for the Redhorn Pass when we heard quite the unmistakable fuss."

* * *

><p>It was Tauriel who first heard the noise. They were three hours up the steep switchbacks of the lower Redhorn when she turned, quickly arming her bow and looking back, ears alert.<p>

Filí drew both swords and Kilí nocked an arrow.

Then the sound of a young girl's cry of frightened rage.

"Briar…" Tauriel was off like a flash, backtracking the way they'd come. Filí and Kilí, carrying most of their gear, dropped packs and followed, weapons at the ready.

_Mahal, _Filí thought. How had Briar followed them?

They came upon the lass on the edge of a steep drop-off, her back to a large stone as she held off nine orcs by wielding a filthy looking orc-sword with no skill whatsoever. It was a standoff that she was about to lose.

Tauriel's first three arrows dropped orcs before they knew she was upon them. She ducked a thrown spear, then stair-stepped up to an overhang, somersaulting into four orcs standing stupidly unprepared in the back, slashing them with her short swords.

Filí charged the two who reached for Briar, slashing left, then right, gutting the first. He spun, bringing both blades around to smack the second one in the jaw. The orc went sideways, overbalanced, and toppled off the edge, its neck at an unnatural angle as it fell.

Filí turned back in time to see Kilí driving his sword into the heart of an arrow-wounded orc who'd managed to stand and aim a throwing knife. The orc went over backwards and Kilí looked left and right for more vermin.

There were none. For a moment, all was quiet. Then the tenor note of an elf-horn sounded on the trail below.

"Lorien," Tauriel said, turning sharply to face Briar. "They are on their way."

They all looked at Briar. The lass stood with orc-blade pointed up, her expression defiant. Filí scowled at her and reached for the blade, easily wrenching it out of Briar's weak grip and tossing it toward his brother, who caught it neatly. Kilí glowered and threw it down.

"You stole a sword from them?" Filí demanded. He wanted to yell at the girl and smack her upside the head, but Tauriel was coming toward them, face flushed and brows drawn.

"Where is your sense of caution?" The elleth growled. "Where is your _escort?_"

"They've been well and truly ditched," Briar said, flipping the elf cloak back. "And they gave me the way to do it without being seen."

The cloak, Filí realized.

Briar glared at Tauriel. "I'm not going back…that elf queen has it wrong—there's no one back in Framsburg I ever want to see again. Especially not without my mother." Her voice broke on the last word.

As angry as they all were, that brought them up short. It was, after all, their fault that Briar's mother was dead. They'd hired Raega, persuaded her to go farther south on the river than her good sense said was safe, and then they'd been unable to prevent the surprise attack that killed her.

It was Kilí who broke the tableau. "Lass…" he said in a low, sad voice. He reached one hand toward her in sympathy.

Briar sniffed, looking suddenly as young as she truly was and ran to him, burying her head in his shoulder.

Kilí's expression was bleak as he folded his arms around her.

Filí let his breath out. "We do not have time to take her back to Lorien. We need to keep moving—the faster we're out of orc territory, the better."

"You will leave the cloak," Tauriel said. "It was given to you as a loan, not for keeping."

Kilí pulled away from Briar, holding her at arm's length. "She's right," he murmured to the girl. "Leave it here with the dead orcs as a thank you."

Filí thought Briar would refuse, but to her credit, the lass nodded and slipped off the cloak, folding it neatly. She handed it to Tauriel.

Filí and Kilí exchanged a glance, and then Kilí nodded to the lass. "We will accept your company on the road, Briar. But you will obey Tauriel as you would have obeyed your mother." He pinned Briar with a stern eye and lowered his voice. "You will not leave her sight."

Filí had to look down a moment, finding his _nadadith _suddenly comical. To hear such a thing, he reflected, coming from Kilí…! He could almost hear Thorin Oakenshield's hearty guffaw.

The lass replied with a defiant tilt of her chin.

"Don't even try," Filí growled. "To out-stubborn a dwarf, lassie."

Brair's shoulders shifted, then lowered, and she looked from Filí to Tauriel, and then slowly nodded her acquiescence to Kilí.

"We will need to keep moving until well after sunset," Kilí said to the girl as Tauriel left the folded cloak with a small stack of stones to hold it down.

Fili approved. Elves called such things a _kopki, _and the very order and balance carried messages. He trusted this one said something to the effect of _sorry, here's the cloak, we'll take her off your hands, good luck with all the orcs._

* * *

><p>Bilbo sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So she went with you from there on?"<p>

Filí nodded. "Yes. Though really, our trip across Eregion was unremarkable…"

Tauriel sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, head tilted up at the night sky. "Except the time you rescued Briar from a wolf."

Kilí rolled his eyes. "And the time Tauriel saved her from highwaymen outside Tharbad."

Tauriel snorted. "Not to mention you defending her in that fight with the traveling dwarf lads…"

Kilí grinned. "It took you and Filí both to soothe everyone's feelings after that one...especially with their big sister."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow at Filí now. "But he did it so well...!"

Filí smiled, recalling the moment. "And that's when I really understood Lady Galadriel's words to me," he said to Bilbo.

"What…?" Bilbo quirked an eyebrow in surprise, then shook his head. "I knew there was more. Out with it," he teased.

Filí felt his cheeks heat up, wondering now whether he could say it. He looked at their friend with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Well. She said that love endures past all; past pain and death and loss and betrayal," he repeated. "And then she said this: _do not regret the loss of your brother to his lady love. Yours will cross your path very soon...as beautiful to you as coppersmith's art and with a heart as enduring as Aüle's love for his people..."_

Bilbo suppressed a smile. "Elves," he snorted, shaking his head. "Can they never come right out and say something plain?"

Kilí let loose a bark of laughter, and Tauriel looked amused but indignant.

Filí shrugged. "At the time, back in Lorien," he said. "I had no idea what to make of it. It bothered me. I was worried about getting that ruby back to the Blue Mountains and there we were—surrounded by elves…" He threw up his hands, eyes wide with the memory of feeling so strange in a strange land. "Did she think there was another elf who would fancy a dwarf lad? I mean, we weren't likely to run across more dwarves anytime soon." He blinked and shook his head. "Finding a lass is a thing a lad always hopes for, of course. But I'd just never thought on it much…"

Bilbo held up a warning finger. "_Briar_…_?_ Tell me Galadriel did not mean…?"

Filí laughed. "No." He made a face. "_Mahal_, no. That one's a few years from having any interest in lads. And when the time comes," Filí made a fierce eye at Bilbo. "I reckon we'll be guarding that fortress with our axes to keep the Dunedain lads at bay."

Bilbo blinked at this, then laughed. "Sounds like a bedtime story told to children," Bilbo said. "_Briar Rose and the Two Dwarves.._."

Tauriel laughed out loud. "I love it!"

Filí and Kilí stared at her. The protection of a young lass's honor was a rather serious matter to them, but it apparently was not to her.

"So where is she?" Bilbo asked. "Did you leave her down at the Green Dragon?"

Tauriel let out her breath. "She's still under our protection, let me assure you of that. But no—she's off with Arin."

"Arin?" Bilbo waved his pipe to prompt more information.

Kilí laughed. "The one as beautiful as coppersmith's art."

* * *

><p><strong>**AN Our heartfelt thanks** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

**A very good question from a reader: ** "Gimli had loads of trouble [entering Lorien] but Fili and Kili didn't?" Erm...LOL. Honestly, I think that without the presence of an honored and revered elder like Aredhel, they would indeed have had trouble. Also, Gimli visits 80 years later when everyone is MUCH more on edge about the Nine being abroad. Plus, when Gimli enters, he is with Frodo-who is carrying the Ring. My own speculation is that the elves would have been extra prickly from sensing the dark evil carried by the Fellowship, and that might make them extra agitated about the presence of a dwarf... IDK. It's an AU! I invite you to go with it. ;P Appreciate the question tho—good one!

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**


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